Nippy Sweetie
by deeedeee
Summary: Frequently NSFW. Mrs Hughes and Mr Carson, and a long journey. It started out as sass appreciation, pure and simple, and got a little complicated. CarsonxHughes, CarsonxCarson and HughesxHughes getting over the fears taught by society and getting their shit together. NO SEASON 5 SPOILERS.
1. Chapter 1

**a/n** I was just rewatching this and couldn't stop staring at Mrs Hughes and her magnificently sassy ways in this scene. This could turn into a series of drabbles.

* * *

"I wonder why Lady Rose was down here."

Mr Carson was sitting at his desk and as much as he usually tried to ignore Thomas's voice, he raised his head at this, drawing his brows together. _Lady Rose was downstairs? That's odd. _

"And I'm afraid you will continue to wonder."

Mr Carson suppressed a snort of laughter. She'd always been a bit of a nippy sweetie. _That's her word, _he thought. He had been baffled the first time he heard it; she had been describing her sister and admitted to having the same traits. He'd come to understand the term and he thought it entirely fitting. He had always been impressed by her ability to handle Thomas - _Mr Barrow_, he thought with a roll of the eyes.

"That's very mysterious, Mrs Hughes." _That smarmy little bastard._

"You know me, Mr Barrow. A woman of mystery if ever there was one."

He'd always enjoyed overhearing her in the hallways, and just now it was especially delicious to hear her warding off _Mr Barrow's_ questions. The way her tongue caressed her r's caused a stirring in his … _ahem_. He mentally cleared his throat and realized how ridiculous it was to do such a thing. He tried to concentrate on whatever blasted ledger he was working on, tried to ignore the conversation that was by turns enticing and supremely off-putting.

"But her secret won't affect us."

He rolled his eyes at the boy's pathetic attempt to extract a secret from the housekeeper. _He doesn't stand a chance_.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Now you have got me worried."

"I am sorry to hear that, Mr Barrow," she said airily. "But now you must let me get on."

Mr Carson chose that moment to step outside his pantry, intercepting Mrs Hughes. He raised his eyebrows helplessly, his mouth dropping open slightly at the sway of her hips, and her small triumphant smile. She looked up at him and stopped short, her smile giving way to a look of shock, confusion.

He'd never looked at her like that before.


	2. Chapter 2

She tried to appear as if she'd recovered quickly. The look in his eyes was gone instantly; she was not even sure she'd really seen it.

"Are you alright, Mr Carson?"

He squared his shoulders and intoned something pompous about Thomas. She wasn't really listening, as she was already thinking about where to put Lady Rose's band.

"...tell _me_ why Lady Rose was downstairs?" He'd stopped talking and was looking at her expectantly. His voice was melted butter, but it would do her no good to dwell on _that._ Not today, when she'd already indulged in a little more staring than usual during breakfast. It wasn't often she envied cups of tea, but this morning was one of those times.

"That would be telling." _Sometimes it is just too easy,_ she thought.

She strode past him to the doorway of her sitting room, and looked back to see him. He was standing in his doorway, dumbfounded. She could count on one hand the times she'd seen him like this.

She rolled her eyes at him.

"Oh, very well. I'll tell you all about it this evening. Now if you'll excuse me, I must get on."


	3. Chapter 3

She'd finished telling him about the plans for Lady Rose's surprise. He let out a sigh. _These young ones and their crazy ideas._

"It creates an awful lot of extra work for you, doesn't it, Mrs Hughes?"

"Is that _you_, suggesting a member of the family might be a touch too demanding?"

He was taken aback by this and looked up quickly, almost choking on his sherry. She had that look again — the serious expression that never quite reached her eyes. Her smiling, shining, deep blue eyes. At night he could think they were brown. When she looked at him like this he would like to —

He shook his head and furrowed his brow. "Certainly not. I just think it rather improper for a _jazz band_ to play here at Downton." He put all the indignation he could muster into the phrase.

"Well, I suppose that's true, but it _is_ for his Lordship's birthday. And Lady Rose has apparently been put in charge of 'fun,' so who are we to argue?"

He responded with a noncommittal "hmmm," and finished the last sip of his sherry.

She raised her eyebrows, silently offering him _another wee drop,_ as she sometimes put it. Usually he would accept, but tonight he held his hand over his glass.

"Thank you, Mrs Hughes, er, I think — I'll say good night."

"Good night, Mr Carson." She bit her bottom lip slightly and frowned just a touch. He beat a hasty retreat, trying not to notice her expression. _Especially not her lip._

He rushed upstairs and tried to clear his head with the cold water that he splashed over his face when he got there.

_What the hell is happening to me?_


	4. Chapter 4

Alone in her sitting room, she watched his back as he all but fled for the stairs.

She sipped her sherry.

_What's got into him?_

She sighed. She had no way of finding out at the moment, and plenty of work in the morning, so she went straight upstairs to her narrow bed after draining the tiny glass.

And what of it, if the thought of his voice made her hands slide down her body? What did it matter, as long as she stopped before her fingers got to that hidden place?

* * *

The envelope had come in the morning post. It was just a bill, so his thoughts were elsewhere as he searched in vain for the letter opener and decided to rip the damn thing open. It was a rare physical display of frustration.

She stopped in front of his door as he inhaled with a hiss. He cursed at the offending envelope, then looked up at her, mortified, sucking his finger.

"I'm so sorry you had to hear that, Mrs Hughes," he said quickly, again putting his finger in his mouth as he stood.

She knocked absently on the door as she stepped into his pantry with a look of concern. _Far be it from her to want to suck a man's blood, but she wouldn't mind tasting his fingers -_

She was horrified at her own thoughts in the light of day and closed her mouth; she hadn't realized her jaw had dropped at the sight of him.


	5. Chapter 5

When she looked at him like that, he was reminded of the torment he'd endured at tea and dinner the day before.

* * *

"Ooh, I like that Rudolph Valentino." Mrs Patmore had obviously enjoyed her moment of rapport with the younger staff.

He'd seen Mrs Hughes's response to the name and surprised himself with jealousy. _What the -_

"He makes me shiver all over."

He had actually shuddered. _It's like chalk and cheese. Like thinking of your granny when you're in the middle of -_

"What a very disturbing thought." Mrs Patmore was like a sister to him and honestly, he didn't begrudge her a little Hollywood thrill. He had merely been irritated with himself for envying the distant celebrity who made _her_ go all dreamy-eyed.

She had looked at him with her mouth open, about to say something, and he'd immediately been sorry. The things that slipped out of his mouth sometimes surprised him. The rest of the evening had gone relatively well, even though he'd nearly fallen apart at dinner. With one eyebrow she could bring him to his knees.

He'd managed to speak calmly as he justified his refusal to hire Molesley. His resolve had weakened every time he looked at her. Then she'd raised her eyebrow at Mrs Patmore. He didn't know exactly what they said with those looks, but he thought he had a good idea.

_Old fool._ _No right to those airs and graces._

* * *

Now he lowered his hand to his desk, trying to regain his composure and stop the bleeding. She stood motionless in the doorway, the back of one hand resting forgotten against the door.

"Oh Mr Carson, what have you done to yourself? Wait right there." She pursed her lips and swept out of the room.

In an instant she came back with a cloth soaked in cold water for his cut. Briskly, she made him sit and wrapped his finger. His skin burned where she touched him.

She tried to ignore the way his breathing had changed as she held the cloth against his warm skin.


	6. Chapter 6

_She tried to ignore the change in his breathing as she held the cloth to his warm skin._

* * *

When she touched him, he forgot to breathe. She had his hand in one of hers and pressed the cold, wet cloth against his finger.

She was sure the bleeding had stopped and she unwrapped the cloth to confirm it. The edge of it had left a line across the back of his hand, which she gently traced with one fingertip.

He inhaled suddenly and she dropped his hand, all but jerking away from him.

"Well! I'd say you're right as rain again, Mr Carson," she said brightly.

Mrs Hughes was a meticulous person as a rule, but she had never folded anything more precisely than the cloth she held in her hands now.

She stared at it.

He stared at her.

"Was - was there something you wanted, Mrs Hughes?"

"No," a little frown, pursed lips. "No, Mr Carson, I'll be on my way."

And she was gone. The sound of keys and brisk footsteps faded down the hallway.

He sank into his chair and took up the envelope. Holding it diagonally between two fingertips, he spun it absently.

His hand still burned where she'd touched it.

_This is neither the time nor the place,_ he thought, but there was nothing else for it. So he stood, painfully, and went to close and lock the doors of his pantry.

He stopped after locking the second door and shook his head at himself in disgust. He opened the doors again. What did it matter if this odd behavior got a strange look from the hall boy?

At least this way he wouldn't be defiling _her_ in his mind, and _himself_ with his hand. He sat at his desk to wait it out.


	7. Chapter 7

"And you have your pride, and I respect you for it. Good day, Mr Molesley."

Mr Molesley left. He didn't like to be cruel to the man, but he found him damned irritating. As if that weren't enough, he'd arrived just as Mr Carson had returned to his desk to calm down.

* * *

She hid her growing smile in her cup of tea. Mr Carson had just given in and hired Mr Molesley, thanks to the plot she'd hatched with Mrs Patmore.

Her smile was not lost on him. Even in his irritation (_especially in his irritation_) he wished he could reach for her. He imagined grabbing her wrist and spinning her into him. Pushing her against the closed, _locked_ door of her sitting room. Making her back arch as he pressed her against him, and finally, _finally_ tasting that pretty mouth.

He stayed seated at the table for longer than usual that afternoon.

* * *

"Did you ask me to come down?"

"I did. We've made some sandwiches for you and the others, as I doubt you'll be off duty before midnight. We'll set a little table inside the green baize door."

Her kindness made him glad for his restraint earlier. He doubted he could look her in the eye now if he'd done _that_ while thinking of her.

"They sound good from down here."

Lady Rose's jazz band was playing. He was relieved to know that his Lordship and the rest of the party were enjoying their evening. He was also grateful for Mrs Patmore's presence. She was quite effective at keeping his thoughts where they ought to be. He managed to form a vaguely disapproving sentence instead of staring at Mrs Hughes, who was looking unusually rosy.

"If you like that sort of thing."

"I thought Mr Ross was very nice." Mrs Hughes changed the subject. _Bless her_. If he could just see that smile every day, he'd be happy. No need to indulge in all of this.. _other_ nonsense.

"So did I, strange to relate. Though, it's still an odd sort of thing to be happening at Downton."

"Makes you want to jig about, doesn't it?"

_Yes_, he thought_. Think of Mrs Patmore jigging about_. Anything to keep his thoughts away from _her._ But he needed to reply, and quickly.

"Certainly not!"

_Ridiculous man_. She watched him go upstairs. Her hands were still clasped as she often held them. Tonight it had the added benefit of preventing her from absentmindedly reaching to touch him. His hair, his hand, anything.

The party went on and on. There would be no time for sherry in his pantry tonight.


	8. Chapter 8

"Say there's flu in the house and he mustn't miss out on his course."

"You're quite a plotter when you want to be, aren't you?" His tone of voice was so affectionate that in all honesty she wanted to take his hand and kiss his palm, then wrap her arms around him. Let herself hold him and be held.

"It's a skill all women must learn!"

She turned away with a little smile all her own.

* * *

He wasn't sure what was wrong at supper. He hoped he hadn't offended her in some way, but it seemed her anger - uncharacteristically cold - was aimed elsewhere.

He kept glancing at her, but she didn't take her eyes off Mr Gillingham. She was _watching_ the man. He'd never seen her like this before, and it was unsettling.

Surely this wasn't simply due to the man's having insulted Scotland. _A bellyful of heather, indeed,_ he thought. As if it wouldn't be a treat to visit her homeland. Preferably with her on his arm.

He frowned at himself. This was getting out of hand.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N There were two updates today, so please check Chapter 8 if you haven't seen it yet. Thank you, everyone, for the reblogs and likes and faves and follows and reviews! they make my day! MWAH**

* * *

She was lovely.

He was glad for the bazaar, despite the additional work it really did create for them.

He watched as she handled delicate trays of pastries, smiling and chatting with the village people. She stood out in her black dress. He had so infrequently seen her in anything other than the dark clothing they all wore to serve. He would like to see her in something light, airy, something that caressed her figure instead of constraining it.

Suddenly he couldn't take his eyes off the curve of her waist. Then his gaze drifted up her body to her beautiful face.

She was looking straight at him.

"Startled" was an understatement. He could _hear _his heart pounding. Casting about for anything else to look at, his eyes landed on James. The footman looked rather too comfortable.

* * *

She'd noticed Mr Carson looking at her - how could she not? She was always aware of him. His voice. His hands, carefully holding fragile glass and strong silver.

But he was _staring_ at her. At her body. His eyes were on her hip, her bosom. She stared back, unable to move until he looked up at her eyes. He looked away immediately.

The sudden image of his hands on _her _sent a rush of excitement through her. Mrs Hughes - steady of hands, patient and sure in nearly all things - nearly dropped the tray she was holding.


	10. Chapter 10

They discussed the usual matters over sherry in his pantry that night. The bazaar, his Lordship's arrival. They had been relieved to know the surprise was intentional.

The only sign of her nerves was the repetitive movement as she lifted the material of her skirt into tiny peaks before smoothing it down again.

He told himself to stop watching as the motion of the fabric accentuated the contour of her thigh. She tried to get them out of this strange, unbalanced place with a mild disagreement, musing about the two young gentlemen courting Lady Mary. But he was not reacting.

She took a sip and looked up at him. He was staring at her hand. She froze.

He met her gaze and she caught her bottom lip gently between her teeth.

"You're going to hurt yourself biting your lip like that." His voice, softer than she'd ever heard it.

Several things happened at once then. Her eyes widened and her rapid inhalation caused her to choke on her sherry. He realized with horror that he had spoken out loud and he began to fill the room with ordinary words, something about Lady Mary, anything.

She coughed violently and he moved swiftly to help her, but she stood and waved him away.

Although not usually given to hyperbole, he truly wished just then for the ground to open up and swallow him. As her breathing slowly returned to normal, he managed a strangled, "I beg your pardon."

She tried to sound calm as she excused herself. "Well. I think that's enough excitement for one evening," she said at last. "I'll say good night."

"Good night, Mrs Hughes."


	11. Chapter 11

a/n thanks for the love, everyone! xoxo

* * *

Her sherry stood on the table, mostly full. He stared at it, wondering what the _hell _he was supposed to do now.

With the sherry.

With _this._ This business of getting hot under the collar whenever he saw or heard her - and his mind filled in the rest, _smell touch taste _- he would like to do all of these, and he felt fairly certain he was going mad. He wondered wildly whether she might not welcome his advances.

He sat thinking in his pantry for a long time that night, finishing her sherry as well as his. He initially tried to avoid the idea of her lips on the glass from which he drank, but gave up eventually. Still, he would not indulge in _that_; he had too much respect for her.

In the attic, he stood and looked at the dividing door for a long moment. He had never seen the other side of that door, though she'd been in his room before. He knew the door was locked, and he wondered whether the key was attached to her chatelaine. He wondered what he would do if she decided right now to unlock that door and come to him.

Shaking his head at his outlandish fantasies, he entered his room.


	12. Chapter 12

She leaned back against the door of her darkened room and bit her lip, her eyes closed. Her mood shifted from anxiety to giddiness, to irritation, then back to worry. She released her lip and brought her fingertips up to touch it. Her other arm wrapped itself around her waist, holding on to the fabric of her dress.

Her heart was pounding and she felt the insane urge to walk down the corridor in her purposeful way, unlock that dividing door and go to him. Once and for all. Find out what in God's name was going on here.

_And find out what he was like underneath that waistcoat, the starched white front. Run her fingers over his skin, draw his face down to hers -_

Arousal shot through her body and she gasped, her eyes snapping open. Where on earth had _that_ thought come from?

She frowned, shook her head, and went about getting ready for bed.


	13. Chapter 13

Next morning, they kept a careful distance at the breakfast table. Neither of them was normally very talkative in the morning anyway, so each was able to conceal the acute discomfort that arose from wanting to leap across the table in front of God and everyone, but being unable to do so without devastating consequences of every kind.

When the bells began to ring, he rose. Everyone rose in response.

"Mrs Hughes, might I have a word?"

"Of course." She followed him into his pantry. He closed the door and she momentarily forgot to breathe. She struggled to keep calm and to keep her hands by her sides.

His expression was unreadable as he looked into her eyes. He held her gaze intensely for a moment, but quickly looked down at the ledger on his desk.

He cursed himself for closing the door. It was not necessary, given that all he planned to discuss with her was the timing of the family's departure for London. Now she was too close and the sun was shining on her hair. In the bright room he could see the exact color of her eyes.

He realized he was staring and he stumbled over his words as he tried to focus their attention on the household task at hand.


	14. Chapter 14

"Mr Carson, are you alright?"

"Er, of course. I just wanted to make sure we have arrangements settled for the large luggage."

She was utterly confused, but quickly shifted into problem-solving mode as she had a look at the page he indicated.

She was standing too close to him, and she could feel it. She could hear his breathing hitch as her elbow brushed his. Through all their layers of clothing, it would make no sense that she should feel heat transferring from his body to hers, but nothing between them seemed to make much sense lately.

They managed to get through the luggage arrangements. She tried to force her movements to stay fluid and composed as she all but fled to the other side of his desk.

Her color was high.

"Mrs Hughes, are you alright? Are you ill?" _I have to get out of here. I have to get __her__ out of here._

"Not at all; I'm quite alright, Mr Carson." She bit her lip again. He wasn't sure why, but it looked plumper, rosier than usual. He forced himself to look away.

"Only you looked a little -" He stopped himself. _Feverish_.


	15. Chapter 15

"Only you looked a little -" He stopped himself. _Feverish_.

"A little what?" Her expression was strange. It was the result of a great struggle between the arousal that might have been obvious to anyone but Mr Carson, and Mrs Hughes's signature expression of raised eyebrows, wide eyes, and pursed lips.

"Nothing. Never mind."

"Mr Carson, are _you_ alright?"

"I beg your pardon?" His tone was light but he seemed extremely distracted. "Yes, of course." He squared his shoulders and gave his own tormented version of the odd, mixed expression she was wearing.

When she looked him in the eye, his gaze fled down to the papers on his desk and he cast about for a pen, something to hold instead of standing there with his hands at his sides, or (heaven forbid) rushing to her, holding her in his arms, covering her with kisses.

She knew she did not _look_ alright, but there was nothing for it except to leave. _Unless_…

She shook her head. Then she thought crazily that she had been doing quite a bit of that gesture lately.

She cleared her throat. He looked up at her, a question in his eyes.

"Well, if there isn't anything else, I must get on."

"Er - yes. Thank you, Mrs Hughes."

She left, closing the door behind her. He sank into his chair, grateful now for the closed door. With his elbows on the desk, he rested his head heavily in his hands.


	16. Chapter 16

**a/n Lots of updates today... I think I started at 10 or 11. Thanks for the reviews and the tumblr love! Xoxo**

* * *

The car drove away.

_Four months_.

Four _bloody_ months it would be before she saw him again.

The storm of sensation had dissipated for the moment, leaving emotional confusion in its wake.

She had seen the heat in his eyes, the shake as he stilled his hand instead of reaching for her. But clues about his feelings toward her were ambiguous at best. There was the song, but there was also the admonition about sentimentality. A kind look, a caring word could be followed the next day by a callous pronouncement and an impassive stare.

_Impossible man._

There. She felt almost back to normal, until she walked back into the house, into his pantry, closed the door, and sat in his chair. It smelled like him.

* * *

That night, she dreamed of him. She woke in the middle of the night, realizing with horror that her fingers were _right there_ and it was _wet. Slick_. Mortified, she got up to wash her hands and went back to bed, hoping to find sleep.


	17. Chapter 17

He glared out the window. Miss Baxter sat next to him, the chauffeur on her other side. She seemed content to ride in silence, and he was grateful.

Four _bloody_ months.

He was relieved, for one thing. Maybe this would let him sort his head.

He wanted her. That had become abundantly clear, and not only to him. He wanted to hope that she hadn't noticed his faltering, his stares. But she wasn't blind, he wasn't stupid, and he had never been a good liar. Not even to himself.

Something else was there, though, just below the surface.

He cleared his throat, fidgeted a bit.

"Are you alright, Mr Carson?"

_Sweet girl._

He gave himself a mental shake.

_Getting sentimental._

"Yes, Miss Baxter, quite alright. Thank you."

They fell silent again and rode on.

His mind lingered at Downton. It was both comforting and terrible to imagine _her_ at his desk. Her thighs, resting on the upholstery of his chair, her ankles crossed prettily. Would she lean against the back of the chair or perch on its edge? Could she even reach the back or would her legs jut forward like a child's? He stifled a hysterical bark of laughter at the bizarre thought.

He knew she spent time there when he was away for the Season; she had to, in order to keep the house running. It was completely normal.

He wondered madly if any of his pens left ink stains on her fingers.


	18. Chapter 18

She never knew why she didn't give the book back to Edna. But here she was, staring at it in the middle of the day.

_Married Love, or Love in Marriage_.

She had laid it on her desk. _No, that won't do_. She hid it away in a drawer, hands trembling.

A cup of tea, that's what she needed. It was almost time for the servants' tea anyway.

* * *

She got the book out after everyone had gone up.

_"Yet woman has at the surface a small vestigial organ called the clitoris, which corresponds morphologically to the man's penis, and which, like it, is extremely sensitive to touch-sensations. This little crest, which lies anteriorly between the inner lips round the va -"_

She slammed the book shut, stuffed it in the drawer and slammed the drawer for good measure. Then she stood up, looked around for another volume. There it was. She sat and opened it to the passage about this sort of thing. Genesis 38.

_"And Judah said unto Onan, Go in unto thy brother's wife, and marry her, and raise up seed to thy brother. And Onan knew that the seed should not be his; and it came to pass, when he went in unto his brother's wife, that he spilled it on the ground, lest that he should give seed to his brother. And the thing which he did displeased the LORD: wherefore he slew him also."_

Well, _that_ made no sense. She didn't have "seed" to spill, so what in God's name could be wrong with it? She flipped through and landed on another passage.

_"Forasmuch then as Christ hath suffered for us in the flesh, arm yourselves likewise with the same mind: for he that hath suffered in the flesh hath ceased from sin; That he no longer should live the rest of his time in the flesh to the lusts of men, but to the will of God."_

_Well, that was uplifting_. She sighed, annoyed.

She slowly closed the book, watching the onion-skin pages float to rest together. Then she turned off the lights and made her way upstairs, her keys jingling softly.


	19. Chapter 19

The next night she opened the book again to the same passage.

_"...and by the stimulation of movement it is intensely roused and transmits this stimulus to every nerve in her body."_

She was a little uncomfortable reading something so frank. Her eyes jumped down the paragraph.

_"...it may take from ten to twenty minutes..."_

_"...consummate her feeling..."_

_"...mutual simultaneous orgasm."_

...Whatever _that_ was. She'd never actually heard much talk of _any_ of this before. It wasn't spoken of.

When she'd confiscated the book, it had been to solve a problem for Mr Branson. She'd had neither the time nor the inclination to read it. But now with most everyone away for the Season, she had a great deal more time to herself.

"Orgasm." She said it out loud in her sitting room. The word itself sounded violent, but the book said it was enjoyable.

She closed the book and sat thinking. Of course she knew that _...doing that... _with a man was said to be pleasurable. If it weren't, Ethel and a thousand others would never have made that mistake.

But she had never actually experienced it. She and Joe had never gone beyond a kiss, and while he was a nice man, nothing about their relationship had caused anything like what she had found _there_ when she woke up the other night.


	20. Chapter 20

Twenty-one-year scotch in a _sherry_ glass.

Normally this would horrify him, but these were desperate times.

He broke off a piece of dark chocolate and let it melt in his mouth, then took a sip. The smooth liquor blended with the rich sweet to create a flavor like toasted hazelnuts. _The whole truly is greater than the sum of its parts_, he thought. Irritated, he wondered why such an inane thought should occur to him just now.

His fingers played against the delicate stem of the glass. His eyes fell on the ledgers, all filled in neatly in his own hand. Organized. Impeccable. Controlled.

Unbidden, again, thoughts of her rushed to his mind. Her mouth on the glass. Her fingers running over his hand. Her bitten lip.

_Bloody hell._

He'd been busy. It had been easy to let those thoughts sink far beneath the thousand and one things to do, guests to greet, food and drink to serve.

In his first quiet moment alone since their arrival, he could suddenly feel his heart start pounding. His hand rested for an instant on his growing erection, but he quickly moved it away, clenched his knee instead.

He took a deep, shuddering breath, swallowed the rest of the scotch and poured another glass. He downed that one too.

He thought desperately of Mrs Patmore "jigging about" and it helped a bit. Not much.

He drank a third glass and slammed his fist into the desk, stood up and stormed out of the room. Knowing no one would hear it down here, he slammed the door and the sound reverberated through the corridor.

If anyone wondered about the cold bath, he could always blame the weather.


	21. Chapter 21

Tentatively, she pushed against herself over her knickers.

Lying on her front, she held her hand - the first knuckle of her thumb, against herself. She pushed against herself.

She didn't know what would happen but she kept at it. It felt good.

It felt good and it kept feeling good. She kept at it.

She tried not to think of anything specifically. From what she'd read, it sounded like the problem with this sort of thing was the impure thoughts that went with it, not the act itself. She had no seed to spill; she wasn't hurting anyone.

She kept at it. It felt good.

It kept feeling good, and it kept feeling better. And better. She tried not to think of him.

She _tried._

She thought of him. His hands on sherry glasses. His voice caressing every syllable.

She kept at it. On her front, one side of her face in her pillow, she felt good.

It kept feeling better.

She kept at it.

Until

Until

Somehow

It felt amazing.

And she kept at it, breathing hard shallow deep shallow again

And shuddered against herself

And kept at it and shuddered and it was an explosion, a revelation. Bliss ecstasy everything confusing and then it was over and she breathed deeply. Alone and strong. Powerful. Elated.

_I suppose that's what they meant when they said "orgasm."_

* * *

She slept better than she could remember ever having slept.

She woke up guilty. She promised herself that she wouldn't do it three times before the cock crowed.


	22. Chapter 22

**a/n today's updates started with 21, so check it out if you haven't yet. thanks for the reviews and the tumblr love! xoxo**

* * *

She paged through, trying to justify or condemn her actions. Taking a sip of sherry, she read by the light on his desk:

"_Let the husband render unto the wife due benevolence: and likewise also the wife unto the husband. The wife hath not power of her own body, but the husband: and likewise also the husband hath not power of his own body, but the wife. … For I would that all men were even as I myself. But every man hath his proper gift of God, one after this manner, and another after that."_

So. Paul thought everyone should be an ascetic like himself. _How he imagined the human race should survive..._

To be honest, that part of it sounded daft. The power over one's body, well. That was all about husbands and wives, and it was not helpful.

* * *

In her sitting room, she read on in the _other_ book.

"_It has happened many times in human history that individuals have ... set up celibacy as a higher ideal."_

She rolled her eyes.

"_So long as we are human we must have bodies, and bodies obey chemical and physiological, as well as spiritual laws."_

For reasons she couldn't explain, this sentence sent a rush of adrenaline through her. _Laws_. Unbreakable, intractable. Yes, that sounded about right..

"_By the ignorant or self-indulgent breaking of fundamental laws, the deepest harmonies are dislocated. The small-minded ascetic endeavors to grow spiritually by destroying his physical instincts instead of by using them."_

It would be as simple as dogma against science if that bit about self-indulgence weren't so troubling.


	23. Chapter 23

Three _bloody_ months left.

He examined the bulletin board, making sure everything was current. Absentmindedly he abused the felt board with a thumb tack as he read. He pushed it in and pulled it out. Scraping. Raising a tattered ridge as he dragged the sharp point against the rough surface.

When he suddenly realized what he was doing - _damaging his Lordship's property for no reason_ - he pushed the pin in and left it there. He clasped his hands behind his back.

Satisfied with the posted material, he turned away. He hummed to himself, thinking of the wines for tonight's dinner.

Thinking of wine shared with her in his pantry at night. Her smiling eyes. Her pretty lips.

_God damn it_.

It was the middle of the day and he had a thousand things to do, and he thanked the whole blasted pantheon for this because it meant he was able to distract himself from the forbidden images that threatened to flood his mind during every waking moment.

* * *

In his sleep he was at the mercy of his unconscious mind.

He woke up drenched in sweat, his hand around his erection. Horrified.

Every _bloody_ morning.


	24. Chapter 24

She made her rounds, keys jingling, stern expression hiding her thoughts.

She wondered if she were doing it wrong. Surely something was supposed to go inside? She must have blushed at this because she caught a housemaid looking at her a little too long as she passed her. The girl had worry in her eyes but quickly went on with her work.

Mrs Hughes wondered what the punishment for this kind of sin was.

She imagined it might be eternal stimulation with no chance of the release at the end. She covered her crazed giggle with a cough.

After servants' tea she was in her sitting room, looking about for something with the right shape.

She shook her head.

_Thoughts like this in the middle of the day._


	25. Chapter 25

**a/n: NSFW!**

**Hughes x Hughes love.**

* * *

She sipped her sherry in his pantry.

Her eyes landed on the sherry stopper.

It felt hot against her palm when she returned from washing it. Hard and rounded and hot.

_His hands have touched this. The glass - so smooth, his nimble fingers playing against it -_

She locked both doors. Slid off her knickers.

_This is too much this is going too far I can't do this in here I can't do this to him. He'll know._

So she turned off the lights.

She sat in his chair and put one foot on his desk.

She kept her fingers away but pushed the stopper in and out, slowly. It hurt a little at first, but not for long. The thought of _him_ pressing just there brought her _almost_ to the edge several times.

It wasn't enough.

Remembering a passage from that book, she tentatively brought her other hand down. It had been clutching the wooden armrest and now she rested it over her labia.

Her whole body jerked.

She moved her hand over herself, stroking here and there. The stopper was now sliding in and out with ease and it felt awfully good and she didn't want it to stop.

She imagined it was his hands instead of her own and instantly felt a mad increase of pleasure. A strange sense of inevitability rushed through her in the final moments before her climax. Then she was arching against herself, breathing too hard, too fast and then it was over and she sank back in his chair, catching her breath as much as her corset allowed.

The moment of bliss soon gave way to worry.

_What have I done?_


	26. Chapter 26

Back from washing the stopper again, she gasped.

She could _smell_ it in here. Heavy, sexual, intoxicating.

Incriminating. She rushed to open the window, then lit the candle on his desk, shaking her head and blowing it out again after just a few seconds.

She locked the door and hurried upstairs.

Halfway up she turned, releasing her breath in an annoyed huff. She was too flustered even to roll her eyes at herself as she rushed back downstairs to replace the stopper.

Finally in her bed, she waited for her heart to return to its normal rate. It felt for all the world like she was sneaking around. As if she would be caught in the corridors late at night.

She scoffed mentally. _Oh, Els. Who's going to catch you? _

In the darkness, she bit back a grin at the thought. She was in charge here. Alone. Oh, Mr Branson and Lady Edith were here as well, but that didn't count. Not really.

_He's_ _not here._

And for the moment, she was glad of it.

* * *

She didn't have time to get to his pantry until after breakfast. When she opened the door, she was relieved to find that _that_ scent was gone.

_Only two months left_, she noted as she looked at the calendar.

She looked up with a start. It had become their custom to talk on the telephone each year, halfway through the Season.

_God help me._


	27. Chapter 27

He woke up as usual.

Heart pounding, sweating, holding his erection. Full of need and guilt, ready to douse himself with cold water.

_Only two bloody more months_.

His eyes snapped open.

_We're halfway through. _

Today they would have their customary telephone call.

_Fuck._

He'd said the word out loud a handful of times. Many years ago. He'd long since lost count of the times he'd _thought_ it during the past two months.

Still lying in bed, he scrubbed a hand over his face. He could give in, or he could struggle through a conversation while shaking with desire, stuttering, sweating, and all the rest. To top it all off, the _bloody_ telephone was in Mrs Bute's sitting room.

He gave in.

Two minutes later, he was cleaning it off himself, wondering why he didn't feel as guilty as he thought he should.

He knew about Onan and the spilled seed, and the punishment for it. He knew the only place for these thoughts and needs was within marriage.

_We're practically married_.

He froze.

They'd known each other for decades. They cared for each other. He was beginning to realize that this wanting, this _lust_ (he scowled as he thought the word) was all part of one thing.

He loved her.

And in less than four hours, he would have to try for a normal conversation with her.

_Fuck._


	28. Chapter 28

**a/n thank you so much to kouw for the beta-help with this one.**

**NSFW.**

* * *

She was sitting at his desk waiting for the operator to connect her. In broad daylight, with the door open to remind herself of the existence of the outside world.

Her heart was pounding and she tried to breathe slowly to calm herself, but it only reminded her of her deep and frantic breathing the night before. _In this very chair_.

"Grantham House, this is Carson the butler speaking." She gasped as that voice inserted itself into her memories.

"Hello, Mr Carson. This is Mrs Hughes." She tried to sound normal, whatever _that_ was at this stage. Their customary mid-Season telephone call had always been a source of gladness, something to look forward to. Now it felt terribly stilted.

"Yes, hello, Mrs Hughes! How nice to hear from you. So, here we are, halfway through the Season." _I sound like a madman_.

He was sitting just inside Mrs Bute's sitting room. He'd had no choice but to leave the door open, and he was grateful.

"Yes, here we are. Halfway through! Can you imagine?" She knew her voice sounded too bright.

This pause was going on too long. He could just see her smiling patiently on the other end, waiting for him to respond. He began to sweat, his hand cold against the receiver. His other hand fidgeted with the cord, pressing and releasing it.

She could hear his breathing, and it made her own breath hitch. Her eyes landed briefly on the candle he used for decanting wine.

"Mr Carson, are you alright?"

"Yes, yes. Of course, Mrs Hughes. And how are things at Downton?"

She paused, and he imagined her biting her lip.

She _was_ biting her lip. "Things here are very well. Much the same as usual, I'm afraid. There isn't much to report."

Another pause. _Oh, for God's sake_. She gave herself a mental shake and continued.

"And how are things at Grantham House?" Her voice was high-pitched.

He cleared his throat, trying not to imagine her tongue as it rolled her r's. He closed his eyes briefly, then snapped them open as a kitchen maid hurried past him.

"Also very well, I'm afraid. That is - I mean - very well, I'm glad to say. It's not like Downton, I'm afraid." _Oh, how fine. Butler of Downton Abbey and you can't even get a sentence_ _out._

"Oh? And how is that?" _Stop it, Els. You're playing with fire._

His thoughts ran mercilessly on as he heard the smile in her voice. _It's different because you're not here. I miss you. I want you. I __want_ _you. In a bed or against a wall. Any way you'll have me._

His teeth on edge, he forced himself to respond. Any banality would do. "Well, er. It's - quite a bit smaller than Downton, and of course there are all the activities of the Season."

"Yes. Well, I hope Downton won't be too much of a disappointment after such excitement." She tried to make a joke and could feel it fall flat. She sighed.

He heard her sigh and rushed to - what? comfort her? shut out the sounds of her breathing?

"Well, Downton has its own charms, Mrs Hughes. And it is always nice to come back home to a normal routine."

She could hear the conversation coming to an end in the tone of his voice and she was a bit glad of it. She was helplessly imagining his breath _actually_ in her ear, his body between her thighs, the way he might slowly move inside her.

She struggled to regain a brisk tone of voice as the proper words tumbled out in a heap.

"Hmm. Well, I suppose I'd better let you get on, Mr Carson. I know you've plenty to do. I would give you greetings from Downton but there's no one here to send them! So my own will have to do. Do telephone if you have any requests for when Daisy comes."

"Oh - yes, of course." He was simultaneously disappointed and relieved to end the call.

"Goodbye, Mr Carson."

"Goodbye, Mrs Hughes."

He hung up and trudged to his pantry, locking the door behind him and leaning against it. He didn't quite have the same _physical_ problem as he'd had before, but he needed time to collect himself anyway. He wiped the sweat from his brow and sank into his chair, his head in his hands.

God, he felt terribly obscene, disreputable, dishonorable. He felt utterly exposed and he didn't know what to do.

He loved her. He respected her. And he wanted - he was horrified - he wanted desperately to - to - to _fuck_ her. To bury himself in her, make her his entirely, spill his seed _inside her_.


	29. Chapter 29

**a/n: just a little tease..**

**If you haven't read their phone conversation yet, go back to chapter 28! And if you don't know they're going to talk on the phone go back to 26. And if you don't know about the stopper, go back to 24. And if you have no idea what the hell is going on, follow this crazy little popcorn trail from Chapter 1. It won't take long. (This is an awful lot of fun to write, and I appreciate all your reblogs, likes, favorites, follows, and especially reviews!)**

**This is getting more and more risqué. Thank you, everyone who is along for this ride. Your reviews make my day! Please keep them coming! (I cannot escape the puns anymore). And THANK YOU to kouw for the beta-magic.**

* * *

That night she entered her sitting room with a glass of sherry. She felt guilty about having taken herself.

She thought about sin, about virginity. About what she'd actually done, and especially what she _hadn't_ done. The act that takes away virginity - that was nothing she had done. A glass stopper was so pure, so small. So innocent. Surely she hadn't sullied herself with a little act like that. She certainly didn't feel she'd _lost_ anything.

Honestly, she was a little bit angry about her guilt, her fears. She'd been taught not to have these feelings, but she wanted this. The building pleasure, the onslaught of bliss. The joy in it, the deep sleep afterward.

With him she wanted everything. Marriage, a cottage. _This_. And she hoped his feelings for her went deeper than the lust - _why not call it what it is_ - that she'd seen in his eyes. But they were unable to talk normally about household things, let alone _this._

She sighed, wondering if it would ever come to that.

Then she locked the door behind her and removed her knickers.


	30. Chapter 30

**Very NSFW. HughesxHughes.**

**Thank you kouw for awesome beta magic!**

**Please leave a review to let me know if you liked it or if it was awful.**

* * *

She looked around her sitting room, imagining how this might work, and settled on moving back to his pantry. She needed the softness of that red plush chair.

When she'd locked the door behind her, she stripped to her shift. On his desk she laid a new six-inch taper candle and her hand mirror.

_If I'm going to do this, I want to see it._

After a little maneuvering, she found a position that worked. The plush chair was pushed up to the front of the desk and she lay back in it with her feet up. She placed the mirror carefully in front of her so that it leaned on the desk.

_His _desk. She knew exactly why she came here to do this: she wanted to be surrounded by his things, his scent. She imagined now that it was his hands sliding up her inner thighs.

She recalled the passage in _Married Love _about the different parts and where they were.

She watched in the mirror as her fingers opened her outer lips. She thought it all looked strange from this angle.

_This is where we all come from._

She smiled a little at that. Nothing about this was strange, not really.

She explored a little bit, moving gently, looking at herself. Here was the place where she had pressed the stopper. The memory brought the beginning of wetness and a small rush of pleasure.

Here were her inner lips, and this at the top must be the cli - _ohhhh_.

She smiled. A private joy welled up within her at this newfound power.

She closed her eyes and stroked herself there for a few moments, lingering on the places that brought the most pleasure.

Opening her eyes again, she looked in the mirror. She could see that things were getting, well... Rosier. Fuller. She kept at it, watching. Seeing what moved with her fingers, what changed. There was more wetness, and it was slippery and it felt _fantastic_.

She wanted more, wanted contact like the other night, and she thrilled at the knowledge that she was going to _see_ it.

She took the candle and pressed the rounded end against herself. Watched as the tip disappeared inside. Her breath trembled.

She moved the candle in and out. Slowly. It slid easily, and the gentle friction and pressure of it felt incredible.

She discovered that some angles felt different. She rocked the candle against herself, forward and back. Watching as her hand moved it. Slowly. In and out. Over and over.

She found that she could take it in a little deeper than at first - _wanted_ it deeper. She stared at her own movements as she brought it nearly all the way out before pushing it slowly inside her again.

She found the movements that brought discomfort and learned to prevent them. She found new, secret places inside that made her gasp.

Her other hand had rested against her for some time as she had watched this. Making love to herself. Now she began to move it, touching that sensitive place again, gently pressing her lips against the candle now and then, relishing the building tension, the sweetness that grew from deep within her.

Soon she began to feel that marvelous sense of inevitability again. Her breathing was shallow, excited, and she smiled to herself, fascinated to watch herself thrusting the candle in and out. The feeling grew and her fingers went faster and harder and then it all happened at once. Her whole body arched in almost unbearable ecstasy. She could feel her inner muscles clenching around the candle and she slowed its movements. Her eyes closed tightly as she gasped, letting up on the pressure with her other hand -

_oh yes oh god it's too much it's perfect it's too much I can't, oh god I can't stop and I think that voice is me -_

Because she was keening. She had released several breathy, loud moans and had surely let loose a profanity or two.

She came down from it, breathing hard, looking again in the mirror. Everything was flushed pink and there was some wetness and she pulled out slowly. Everything was quite slippery. It occurred to her that she could be ashamed of this, but in her current state of euphoria she made the decision that she would not, could not anymore.

Maybe she would see it all differently in the morning, but for now there was bliss.

She leaned back in his chair and smiled, eyes closed, breathing in her own scent. _Enjoying_ it. It was so wanton, so shameless, and she suppressed a giggle.

_Oh Els, you've been missing out on so much._


	31. Chapter 31

**a/n thank you to kouw and mrpoohnminnie and chelsiefan and evitamockingbird. xoxoxoxo**

**thanks for the reviews! please leave one if you have the time!**

**this one is probably NSFW. Not as much as 30.**

* * *

She opened his window on the way out. Every time.

Over the next two weeks, her opinion about her actions shifted between elation and worry.

She'd found that sometimes she could have more than one of what _Married Love_ called "crises."

She was able to control her vocalizations when she knew what was coming.

Sometimes she used the mirror, sometimes not. The candle was long gone, burned up for light in her room. She learned about the curl of the fingers, the many possibilities of skin against skin. The pressure in different places, the pleasure that grew each time she learned more of her body.

The faint scent that lingered on her fingers even after washing. It made her even more conscious than usual of keeping physical distance between her body and others.

Occasionally she felt guilty. Mostly it was because she was invading his space.

_As if his pantry - or any of the rooms in this house - were really that private._

She thought back to some of the times their conversations had been interrupted. Quite often, it had been in moments of emotional near-intimacy.

The _other_ source of the guilt, well. Since she had begun sleeping better and taking joy in her discoveries, it really _had_ taken on the simplicity of science against dogma. And she was firmly on the side of science in this case.

"_The wife hath not power of her own body, but the husband: and likewise also the husband hath not power of his own body, but the wife."_

_Someday,_ she thought. _Maybe._

* * *

The next two weeks were torture mixed with bliss.

He did indulge. He could not help it any longer. And oh, the thoughts of her that came to his fevered mind. He felt disgusting, lecherous, base.

It was starting to take longer each time.

He tried to justify his actions with fantasies of how he could make it right.


	32. Chapter 32

She sighed, hung up the telephone and briskly left his pantry, notes in hand. She found Daisy and Ivy in the kitchen and told them the news.

Surely the girls would attribute the unusually high pitch of her voice to stress from the sudden change in plans.

The unexpected call had been strictly about household matters, thank the Lord.

He'd sounded relatively calm, as if the only thing bothering him were the prospect of managing Grantham House without Mrs Bute. She'd carefully controlled her breathing after her initial gasp upon hearing his voice.

She wondered if he'd gone off her. She asked herself how she'd been so sure in the first place.

What she did alone was intensely satisfying and meaningful on its own, although she still had her moments of doubt and worry.

She had become very good at it.

That didn't mean it was the only thing she wanted.

* * *

He hung up and crossed into his pantry. After locking the door he sank into his desk chair and rested his head in his hands.

His heart was pounding.

Even with the relief he'd been allowing himself, the effort of holding a normal conversation with her was exhausting. Harrowing. He'd barely made it without confessing something he was sure she did not want to hear.

From the moment Mrs Bute started to feel unwell, he had feared it would come to this.

_One bloody day._ It should have been six more weeks. He might have been ready for her then.


	33. Chapter 33

He waited in front of Grantham House. He was required - and prepared - to greet Lady Edith. He _wanted_ to greet _her_.

He also wanted to hide.

* * *

_God help me, there he is._

Yes, she'd expected to see him. Still - he was there, silver hair, prodigious brows, soft lips. The warm skin whose touch she craved was confined as usual in stark black and white. God, how she wanted to undress him. Layer by layer.

Her heart clenched. He looked _miserable._

"Oh Lord, Mrs Levinson's arrived."

* * *

He silently cursed whatever miscommunication had made the family unaware of Mrs Levinson's arrival time.

While Mrs Levinson spoke, he stole the quickest of glances in Mrs Hughes's direction. It had been over two months since he'd seen her and she was lovelier even than he remembered. He wished he could tangle his fingers in her hair and kiss her right here in this bright sun.

He forced his attention back to the matter at hand. So impeccable was his training that it appeared as though he had never strayed from the conversation.

"Shall we - " he looked at her, wishing they had time to talk and glad they didn't - "let Mrs Hughes get inside, milady, and then she can make a plan?"

For half a second, no one was looking at her. She took advantage of the instant to lavish him with a brilliant smile. She ducked her head to compose herself and looked up with a polite smile at Mrs Levinson, who was speaking to her.

"Mrs Hughes, I didn't know you were running this house too."

"Not as a rule, madam, but Mrs Bute is ill, so I am to take charge until she's better."

"Well, I'm glad at least one person under this roof knows what on earth is going on."

She had taken Mr Carson's proffered elbow and he looked down at her hand, somewhat uncomfortable. Crazily, he wished it were her on his arm.

Did he look apologetic? _To me? You're imagining things, Els._

She watched as he helped Mrs Levinson up the stairs, her eyes flicking from one to the other. _Poor man_.


	34. Chapter 34

a/n Thank you for all the love! I'm so happy you are enjoying my little tale of two goobers. This one has mild imaginings of things that would not be SFW.

Please leave a review if you have a moment; I LOVE them. Many thanks!

* * *

"Hello, Mr Carson."

He was updating the board and he returned her broad smile with a small one of his own. He seemed calm.

For a mad half-second, she wondered whether he would close his eyes if she reached up and touched his lips. She bit back the smile that suddenly felt naked.

"Am I glad to see you," he said. She felt a rush of adrenaline. "We've been struggling a bit without Mrs Bute."

_There. He's glad you've come to help run the house. Nothing more._

She rolled her eyes; that idea was even more absurd than her unspoken hopes. After all these years she knew he at least _liked_ her.

"And will Mrs Levinson's arrival make things simpler, do you think?" She looked everywhere but at him, trying not to imagine those lips trailing along her collarbone, down to her breast, taking her nipple into his mouth and -

He gave a low laugh. "As a matter of fact, I'd value your opinion." She followed him into the pantry. "Her Ladyship has asked me to organise a treat for the staff after the ball as a thank you."

"Well, that's very kind."

"They've started opening the new Science Museum..."

He was showing her an advertisement. He was too near and her breath was coming too fast. She concentrated on the page, but she couldn't help glancing at his hands as his gestures brought them very close to her body.

"...between that and a visit to the Crystal Palace on its new site at Sydenham Hill."

So. He was planning an excruciatingly dull event. Maybe things were starting to get back to normal.

Normal, yes. Except for the now-familiar thrill that shot from her heart through her abdomen, tangling between her legs every time she saw or heard him or - _oh Lord, help me - _smelled his scent, as she could now. _Don't think about the other two, Els._ It was too late. She wanted taste and touch as well, oh yes. She wanted everything.

She willed herself to speak evenly. "I see. And this is a fun day as a thank you, is it?"

"Yes. I think it's very generous." He seemed slightly wounded.

"So do I. Very generous indeed." She felt a scoff coming but she refused to humiliate him.

"Maybe you should try your ideas on the staff," she said, handing him the page. "See what they jump at."

She clasped her hands to still them, then left the room, shaking her head.

_I'm getting too old for this foolishness._


	35. Chapter 35

**a/n thank you kouw! and mrpoohminnie! and klswhite! Thank you all for the reviews, follows, favorites, likes, and reblogs! please do leave a review if you have a moment. You all are the best. MWAH.**

**NSFW...and naughty words!**

This is Mr Carson's POV of the same scene as 34. ...kind of.

* * *

She rarely declined an evening sherry with him, but today he had been too close, his voice and his scent too… _present._ So she excused herself, claiming fatigue from the journey.

Her door locked, she rushed to the bed, hitched up her skirts and did away with her knickers. She curled as much as her corset allowed and pushed herself with both hands to a rapid climax. And another.

* * *

He was both disappointed and relieved that she'd gone up early.

After finishing his scotch - in a _proper_ glass - he sat in bed and took himself in his hand, letting their conversation repeat in his mind.

"_And this is a fun day as a thank you, is it?"_

Her sarcasm was not lost on him. He was not angry - far from it. He wanted her even more when she was like this.

He couldn't bear to hold the page at the same time as she did.

_"Very... generous indeed."_

He imagined the intricacies of her mouth.

Her teeth resting on her lips for the _v_.

Mysterious positions of the tongue to roll an _r _and produce a _d_ that sounded like a _t._

He would have liked to close the door and slam her up against it.

He would have kissed her lips, her neck - driving his fingers into her hair, undoing her dress until he couldn't stand it anymore and ripped it open, buttons flying. He would have licked the swell of her breast above her corset and run his hands down her body to pull her closer, pushing himself against her.

She might have torn his clothes off. She might have hiked up her dress and wrapped her legs around him as he thrust inside her against the door. She might have breathed indecent words in that brogue that tangled his mind.

She might have even made those sounds that the showmen used to brag about, unhinged and moaning-

But for once he was in no hurry, so he slowed down to make it last.

A different fantasy took over.

_Her,_ closing the door, kissing him hard, pushing him backward into his chair. Climbing him, opening his trousers and sliding down onto him. Holding the back of the chair as she rose and fell.

Her corset (_somehow_, _magically_) open, he would have taken one breast into his mouth and sucked the nipple while caressing the other. He would have pulled the pins from her hair and grabbed handfuls of it, hauled her face down, kissing her hard as she slid up and down, with his - yes, yes, his _cock_ - up and down - she was riding him, and he was _inside_ her - yes - in her - her - in her _cunt,_ spilling-

The dimly-lit room was silent but for his ragged breath. He came undone to wanton images and sudden, shocking words.

Afterward, he was not sure how he felt. His shame had begun to seem rather out of place: he loved her.

But those _words._

One image from reality lingered: the rise and fall of her chest as they'd stood together.

She had been breathing fast.

A trace of hope began to wander through his thoughts as he fell asleep.


	36. Chapter 36

a/n And we're back! Just had to finish off Tempered. Also, school is starting to I have less time to make this joyful noise than I had over the summer. alas!

Be sure to (re)read Chapter 35 (or the whole popcorn trail, if you want! hey, why not?) if you don't know what the heeelllllllll is going on here. :D (giggling at own fanfic)

Thanks for your reviews! please leave me one if you have the tiiiime. you all are the best. i LOVE you. xoxo

p.s. They are in London, so her sitting room is right across the corridor from his pantry.

* * *

His former life had never served him so well. It meant going on even when something slipped. Covering mistakes.

Not letting on.

Every exchange with her was excruciating. Every time they passed each other, his hands itched to - he didn't even know what; this was where love, respect, and desire collided. He wanted to slam her against the wall every time, but he pushed the thought away in horror.

_I would __never._

The idea of forcing her into _anything_ was anathema. He tormented himself with thoughts of _her_ crossing that corridor into his pantry, slamming the door, and wrapping him in her willing arms - _her willing legs, her mouth, her cunt - oh Christ, this can't go on._

He spent his days behind a moving wall of restraint.

Nothing was outwardly noticeable. In his mind he ravished her a thousand different ways.

At night he indulged in what he felt were the lewdest fantasies. There were images of her bare breasts, his hands caressing them. He thought of how it might feel to run his hand along the smooth, burning skin of her thigh, up further and further, reaching the source of all that heat, opening her up and plunging inside, grasping her hips, _fucking_ her, his woman -

And then, the guilt.

He wanted to tell her of his heart (_his need his want his lust)_, but he couldn't be sure what she would think.

But that trace of hope _needled_ him.


	37. Chapter 37

a/n NSFW, as always.

Thanks for your reviews!

Please do leave one if you have a moment.

Thanks to kouw and to mrpoohnminnie!

* * *

At night she pleasured herself. Breathless, silent, luxurious.

After a few days she thought of her hairbrush. She wondered why she hadn't noticed its gentle curve and rounded edges before.

_Because you weren't in your room at Downton. Too many light sleepers._

The handle was hot from washing, the worn etchings astonishingly stimulating to her sensitive skin.

She imagined her hips rolling up to meet him.

* * *

After some hesitation, she had brought _Married Love_ along to London.

"_...in what position should the act be consummated?"_

She rolled her eyes.

_Everyone knows that._

"… _a curious idea seems to exist that it is 'immoral' or 'humiliating' for the man if the position is reversed."_

_Oh. Right._

An unbidden image of Ethel. She grimaced.

"_Yet Ovid recommends it to little women ..."_

A shiver. Welcome images of her big man _under her_.

She put the book away, turned out the light, and went on all fours, then lower. Her legs being pushed apart by her own weight felt erotic in a way she couldn't have explained.

_Oh yes you can, Els._

She knew why. She was on her knees, touching herself and imagining _riding_ him.

Rising and falling. His chest under her hands, his — his — his _manhood _— moving within her. Her legs wide, holding him tightly.

Spreading her wetness, stroking her lips and her _clitoris_ — she could almost whisper the word now, but it sounded so _sharp_, so _clinical_ — she slid the brush handle inside. Its curve matched her internal shape.

Rocking backward, she found a new secret place inside and gasped.

She froze.

That had been her _voice_. A little audible yelp.

She lay down swiftly, covering herself with the blanket. Listening. Motionless. _Not finished._

Footsteps. A knock.


	38. Chapter 38

**a/n Make sure you've read 37 before reading this one.**

**NSFW**

Thanks for the love! Please leave me a note if you have the time! Thanks to everyone and especially to kouw and to mrpoohnminnie.

* * *

Their bedrooms in Grantham House faced one another. It was unusual, but in the smaller house they had to make allowances.

On the way to his room, he heard it.

A sob, maybe? A muffled sound like falling. Then nothing.

It would be improper to knock; he should go find Mrs Patmore instead. But he was concerned.

He knocked.

"Mrs Hughes, are you alright?" He tried to speak quietly.

He knocked again. No response. Worried in earnest, he quietly opened the door.

She lay on her side, her back to him. He watched the curve of her hip, the dip of her waist as they moved with the deep and even breath of sleep.

— _oh God Els just breathe normally pretend you were sleeping just don't oh god this cannot be happening _—

"Mrs Hughes?" His voice, so soft now. "Are you alright?"

— _don't let on, Els, don't don't don't _—

"Mmhhh?" She turned her head, feigning sleep.

It was still inside her_._ Held in place by the hand she didn't dare move. She had been so _close_, and every motion of her body made the muscles of her sex tighten and release around it.

She called on all of the restraint she'd ever been able to muster in order not to shudder, not to moan as she pushed up from the pillow, twisting to look bleary-eyed at him.

The consequences if he caught on were too terrible to imagine. Their friendship, ruined. He would be appalled. Mortified. Disgusted with her.

"Oh, Mrs Hughes, I'm sorry I woke you. Only, I thought I heard a sound and I — I wanted to make sure you were alright..."

He trailed off, staring at her braid draped over her shoulder. He had never seen her like this before, all warm and sweet and mussed from sleep.

She couldn't form words at the moment, so she kept up the ruse. Mumbling, she lay back down.

Everything in her wanted to arch, to moan as the slight movement caused the hairbrush to shift. She forced herself to lie still, to breathe as if asleep, and to relax her inner muscles.

He was relieved. Maybe the sound had been her dreaming. At Downton his room was far from hers, so he never heard her.

_Never heard her sigh or talk in her sleep._

Suddenly he wondered what her hair felt like. Whether she might sleep with her back to his chest, or if she needed space. If they might lace their fingers together, his arm around her waist.

His heart fell. He was _in her room. _Watching her _sleep_.

It was an intrusion of inexcusable magnitude.

He had to leave. Immediately.

He retreated, closing the door softly. His fantasies that night were richer and more tender than ever before.

Hearing the latch, she shuddered — caught between laughter and tears, overcome by both.

She was horrified at what could have happened but she was trembling for release.

She got on her knees again. _Oh_, but it was _good_ this way.

Rhythmically she pressed on that place inside, touching herself on the outside, imagining what _else_ could have happened.

He would have come to her, pleasured her with that smooth hairbrush before gently pulling it out and replacing it with his hands and then himself. Under her, over her, thrusting deep into her. They would drown in pleasure together and he would fall into her, home between her thighs, spilling inside, his weight solid on her. And they would kiss, drugged on each other, and she would never let him go.

She gave herself release over and over again, silent but for her ragged breath.

Catching her breath afterward, she wondered what had made him linger so long.


	39. Chapter 39

A/N

OMG this might be SFW. Probably not.

Thanks, everyone! Please leave me a review!

* * *

Magnificent. The peacock of the grand estate. Soundlessly providing luxury, filling wine glasses, keeping order.

Falling apart inside, brought to his knees by the sight of a sleeping woman with braided hair.

Yes, he still wanted to do those other things. But seeing her asleep, so peaceful, so sweet, made him ashamed.

She avoided his glance at breakfast and he knew why. He felt his indiscretions must be visible somehow. Words tattooed across his face.

He looked at his ledgers and felt as if they held nothing but pornographic scrawls, the record of the filth in his mind.

Of course the ledgers were impeccable as always.

He would not give up his self-indulgent acts in the morning (necessary) and at night (pervasive, obscene, but laced through with tenderness). He considered it a fair trade for being able to breathe during the daytime. For the ability to play his role.

* * *

Teatime was hell with him so close.

_He thinks I was sleeping._

_Does he?_

_I think he does. Look at him there, all moony. If he didn't, he'd be avoiding me._

_Just as I'm avoiding him._

_Why would he look like that if he thinks I was sleeping?_

_I don't _— _Shite. _

A word she hadn't used in decades.

He'd looked at her. Kindly. Seen her _staring_ at him. She looked away.

_Moony? He's more attuned than ever. He knows. He knows. He knows._

She couldn't breathe. He hesitated.

_She looks afraid, or… something. I'm such a cad. She must be so angry. Bursting into her room like that. She deserves better._

He invited her to sherry in his pantry that night so he could apologize in private.


	40. Chapter 40

**A/N **I honestly didn't intend to leave you all hanging for two days! Real life is really impinging on my ability to spend lots of time writing this stuff, alas.

Special thanks to** kouw!**

Please leave me a review if you have a moment. Thank you!

* * *

She'd refused, claiming fatigue.

He sat alone in his pantry. One glass of scotch became three and he teetered upstairs, berating himself for a hundred poor choices.

She was done with him. Of this he was certain. Whatever kind feelings she might have had for him — _don't kid yourself, old man; she already thought you a prig, and now she thinks you're a cad as well, and she's right_ — had been swept away by his transgression.

Morning brought agony of various kinds.

* * *

She couldn't face him over sherry. Not tonight.

Not after arguing with herself all day.

_He knows._

_He couldn't possibly know._

Everything about it was concealed. Thoroughly. By blankets, the angle of her body, the nature of the act itself.

By morning she'd convinced herself that he had not a clue what he'd interrupted.

(Not him; he had interrupted nothing. She had interrupted _herself_ with her vocal response to sudden, shocking pleasure, intense almost to the point of pain.)

She held on firmly to three facts as the day went on.

First, he had entered her room — a serious breach of decorum for him. Because of worry for her.

Second, he had apologized for waking her; therefore, he could not possibly know what she had been doing.

Third, he had lingered a long few moments after ascertaining that everything was alright.

She couldn't say precisely _how _long; every second in that position had felt like hours.

The first was a revelation. Something had shifted. Something beyond their agonized breathlessness and trembling want.

She turned the third over and over in her mind. Wondering.


	41. Chapter 41

**a/n**

**OMG More than one update in a day!** Today's updates started with **40**, so please make sure you see that one first.

Many thanks to kouw and mrpoohnminnie!

And many thanks to everyone who's reviewed! Please drop me a line if you have a moment! Ya'll are the best. MWAH

* * *

She was still wondering by the time they sat down at the servants' tea.

He had taken breakfast on a tray in his pantry, and with preparations underway for Lady Rose's ball, this was the first time she'd seen him since last night.

His pain was obvious from the way he winced at the light and grimaced at the footmen's voices.

She buttered a slice of bread and set it on his plate. The gesture cut through his fog and he startled, staring wide-eyed at her with a mixture of suffering and incomprehension.

She frowned in confusion. He looked far more devastated than a headache alone would explain.

"Have you taken a headache powder?" Her voice was so soft. He shook his head, more from bewilderment than in response to her question. "Well, we'll get you one after tea."

"Thank you," he managed.

She imagined rubbing his temples with gentle fingertips. Easing his pain.

Oh, she wanted the rest too, and the idea of touching him that way did send a wave of desire through her body, making her tremble a bit as she brought the teacup to her lips.

But those three little facts had helped her to get out of her own head somewhat and she could look at him, really look at him again.

After tea, she filled a glass and he followed her to her sitting room. He stood in the doorway, not entering farther than explicitly invited. His hands fidgeted at his sides.

She mixed the medicine for him. Despite his efforts, their fingers touched as she handed him the glass. She didn't seem to mind.

He still berated himself, but his confusion grew as she gave him kindness after kindness.

Then she surprised him even more.

"Mr Carson, would you join me for sherry tonight?"

Even in her calmer state today, it took courage to invite him. His responses to her words and gestures were strange, but the question in her mind left her no peace.

He closed his eyes against the thought of alcohol. It stung her momentarily.

When he requested tea instead, she gave a tiny smile.

Alright, then. Tea.


	42. Chapter 42

**a/n** Thank you for the reviews! Please drop me a line!

special thanks to kouw!

* * *

He waited in the doorway, holding the loaded tray. Afraid to cross the threshold without express permission.

"Mrs Hughes?"

She looked up from her ledger.

_He still looks miserable. Why is he waiting out there?_

She thought she might know why. She invited him in.

* * *

They sipped. Several times he took a deep breath, trying to start. To apologize. The subject was so uncomfortable.

She looked at him in sympathy. Spoke in that soft voice that made his knees buckle these days.

"Has your headache returned?"

"Er, well — I — no. Not exactly."

She smiled at him gently. Waited.

She would have liked to touch his face, to kiss his forehead.

Slip her arm around his neck, slide onto his lap, and kiss his mouth until he couldn't breathe, but maybe then he would smile again.

She imagined loosening his tie, undoing a few buttons, and sliding her hand into his shirt. She wanted to lay bare the heat that stayed hidden under all of that clothing. She wondered whether she might feel his desire growing beneath her.

She carefully kept her face from revealing her emotions, but she could not control the flush of her cheeks.

He cringed inwardly, seeing her embarrassment. Speaking of his intrusion made it all so _real_.

"I am not sure where to begin."

She made a small frown. Waited. The hand that wasn't holding her tea she kept firmly in her lap.

"I've committed a — a terrible indiscretion." He cursed his hesitation.

_Of course he would castigate himself for it._

She waited.

_How can she look at me so kindly? After what I've done to her?_

"I entered your bedroom, Mrs Hughes. I had heard something and I thought maybe you were hurt," — _I was terrified again at the thought of losing you — _"but it was no excuse. I should have asked Mrs Patmore or a maid to check on you."

"But you came to my room because you were worried."

"Yes." He would like to sink into the earth.

"And you saw I was sleeping."

She wanted to tell him he had woken her, but she never could lie when it came down to it. Not under oath, and not now.

"Yes." _— God damn it, man, she deserves better than your one-word responses —_ "I intruded, Mrs Hughes, and I am terribly sorry. I hope you will accept my apology and we can go on as we have been."

_Whatever that means._ Each was unaware that the other shared this thought.

"Mr Carson, I was touched that you should be so worried about me."

She didn't sound angry. She _didn't_, and it was baffling.

Guilt and shame started to clear from his mind and he looked up from his tea at last.

They looked at each other for a long moment. He looked down, cleared his throat. She bit her lip.

The silence as they finished their tea was nearly comfortable.


	43. Chapter 43

"Mr Carson, all women need someone to show a bit of interest every now and then, preferably in a manner that's not entirely proper."

He looked in the direction she'd just gone. Mrs Patmore's remark astonished him and gave him some measure of hope.

They had been on more of an even keel for the last two days. It didn't stop him imagining them together, but he was at least able to keep it to his late-night solitude.

_She's forgiven your trespasses. Just don't foul it up._

He cast about for a better idea for the outing.

* * *

"I'm sorry. What you're asking me to do is wrong. Whoever the man, whatever the motive, it's wrong."

Mrs Hughes waited until Lady Mary left, then she closed the door. She sat down at the desk. Her hands trembled.

_Again he's doomed and again I helped it._

It was Anna she was most worried about.

Terror and guilt took up residence in the pit of her stomach and grew quickly upward. She shook in earnest as she stood, then walked out as quickly as possible without breaking into a run. She made it to the bathroom just in time so that the sick didn't get on her dress.

* * *

"Could we tell them about the outing, to keep their spirits up?" _To keep __my_ _spirits up._ " Have you had any further thoughts?"

"Well, I was wondering if we might go for something more obvious. Madame Toussaud's, perhaps. There are interesting historical figures to be seen there and not just sensational ones."

"Are there?"

Even through her fog, she knew something had to be done.

As she left his pantry after tacking up the postcard — _not too low; put it up higher where he'll see it_ — her mood lifted for a few seconds.

Then it fell again.

_You did this, Els._

_I should have thrown it in the fire._

* * *

He watched her, worried. She did her duties but there was an unusual tentativeness in her movements. When he caught her eye and gave her an encouraging smile, she clearly put forth great effort to smile back. She was distracted and obviously suffering from a deep upset that she couldn't share with him.


	44. Chapter 44

**a/n** these poor goobers. please take a moment to leave me a review. I LOOOOVE them!  
special thanks to kouw and mestizaa! and thank you to the lovely guest reviewers to whom I wish I could respond.

* * *

Sleep was out of the question. So was _that_.

She fought against the urge to connect her self-indulgence with this disaster.

_No, Els. That's got nothing to do with it._

* * *

It went on for several days.

_She's pale. She barely touches her food._

His mind recreated moments from her cancer scare.

* * *

A knock at the open door of her sitting room startled her. She stood as her guest entered.

"Mrs Hughes."

"Milady?"

Lady Mary spoke under her breath.

"I burned the ticket."

Mrs Hughes struggled to hold her voice steady.

"That's a relief, Milady."

She tried to hold it together but the tears of relief threatened.

They locked eyes for half a second and Lady Mary understood. She nodded, pressed her lips together in a hint of a smile, and quietly left the room, closing the door behind her.

Mrs Hughes sat down at her desk and rested her head in her hands, giving herself time to let this sink in, finally letting out the silent sobs she'd been holding.

Another knock at her door.


	45. Chapter 45

Of course it was him.

"Mrs Hughes?" _She's crying. Don't bother her. _"I'm so sorry. I'll come back later."

"No, Mr Carson, it's alrigh —"

He was gone.

She let out a shaky sigh and took a few moments to compose herself.

He fled, seeking refuge in his ledgers. _Go on, old man. Comfort her. She said it's alright. Don't be a coward._

He had just started to stand when she appeared at his door, knocking softly.

_She looks pale. Red-rimmed eyes._

True, but she was also smiling.

Baffled again, he approached her. "Mrs Hughes? Are you alright?"

"Yes." Her smile grew as she looked into his eyes.

His heart skipped a beat.

"Only, you've seemed so troubled."

"Yes. Well, that's over now."

He stared, unable to resist breaking into a small confused smile of his own.

"You're sure?"

"Oh, yes. Nothing to worry about."

She stepped closer, giddy after the relief and her cathartic tears.

He didn't know what to do with his hands.

Her heart beat rapidly.

She bit her lip, then looked at him. He stared back in wonder. She looked down.

She touched the back of his hand with the back of her forefinger. He inhaled quickly but did not break contact.

"Thank you for your worry, Mr Carson. I can assure you I'm quite alright."

Sudden acute awareness of the unending activity outside his open door. His hand, cold where hers pulled away.

"I'll be on my way, then." She spoke softly.

"If you must."

His response surprised her and she stopped short. She turned, one hand on the door frame, and gave a small smile before she left.

* * *

Breathless, silent in their beds, both imagined crossing the corridor and opening the door.

Waking the other. Gentle touches turning passionate.

Thoughts of spilling inside her, her legs tight around him.

Thoughts of riding him, reaching that place over and over until at last they would come together.

Silently mouthing the other's name and at nearly the same moment, they both came undone. Spent and blissful, he fell deeply asleep almost immediately. Half an hour later, after coming undone over and over, she lay happy and satisfied and drifted into her own deep and restful sleep.


	46. Chapter 46

a/n our favorite scenes draw nigh. This one is prolly NSFW, but it's so short! Who cares, right? :D

thank you kouw!

Please leave me a review if you have a moment! I looove hearing from you, including the guests to whom I wish I could respond!

* * *

It was neither her place nor her wish to linger at the ball.

Still, she liked watching from the doorway as he gave the signal to the chamber orchestra.

Wildly, she imagined them dancing a waltz like this one. Their hands clasped, his hold on her waist tightening when they turned. Stepping between each other's feet momentarily, rhythmically, as such dancing required.

Her heart pounding at these images, she retreated downstairs to see what might need doing.

* * *

He saw her go. Wished he could follow her. Oh, these functions were a chance for the house to shine. But frankly, he was growing rather tired of pageantry and white tie.

A soft cotton shirt. That would be nice. A garden. A wife with braided hair. The freedom to smile as often as he liked.

He wondered if she would ever have him.

He wondered if she were ever interested in... _that._

He couldn't think it of her. All he'd heard about women who liked that sort of thing were cautionary tales.

In some forgotten magazine, he had seen a drawing of a man doing something so strange. A man with his face _right there_ on a woman. He didn't understand it.

The thought made him so uncomfortable that he had to stop for a moment, refocus his attention.

It would have been a long night even without that torment.


	47. Chapter 47

a/n please leave me a review, lovies! They really brighten my daaaaaay! MWAH

thanks **kouw**!

* * *

_Already gone nine in the morning and those maniacs are still at it._

Passing his doorway, she turned.

Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him.

He was resting —_about to doze off if you ask me; poor man _—, a cup of coffee precarious on his lap.

She rarely allowed her face to express what was in her heart, but at the moment his eyes were closed.

She pictured him napping in a hammock. She would smooth back his wavy hair and wake him with a kiss on his forehead, on his lips. He would open his arms to her as she joined him. They would rest, their bodies pressed together.

The thought sent arousal through her to match the tenderness.

She entered his pantry and he stirred.

"Breakfast is done but there are still quite a few in the ballroom."

He shook his head. "No — go to bed. Take the others with you. I'll keep James and give him the rest of the morning off."

_Och, my lovely man, you work too hard._

"And what about you?"

_God help me — her eyes._

The way she tilted her head, her tone of concern — all of it made him want to reach for her hands, pull her into his embrace. Rest his chin on the crown of her head, inhale her scent, feel her warmth against him. Truth be told, he'd like to fall into bed with her right now, just to sleep.

To sleep, yes. Then to wake together and finally, _finally_ taste those lips, feel her heart beat rapidly along with his, grasp one another and raise skirts and do the things he'd dreamed of; he didn't know if she wanted him that way _—_

But duty called.

"It won't be the first time I've gone without sleep."

There _was_ another pressing matter.

"We ought to have the outing settled if we're going on Thursday."

He stood.

"Oh, I feel — a little guilty about that. I tried out my ideas on them and I couldn't fire up any enthusiasm," — he tugged on his waistcoat and she fought simultaneous urges to roll her eyes and take his hand — "so I wonder if we should just settle for a day by the sea."

_His tone of resignation. Don't laugh, Els._

"I know, it's a defeat. But what do you think?"

She bit back her smile.

"We could take the Pullman from Victoria. A day-return ticket costs 12 shillings each. It's a lot — but her Ladyship's happy to pay."

_It's too easy to tease him._

"Well — thank heaven you got there in the end."

She left with a half smile. He frowned, but only just.

She waited up for another hour, hoping he would go to bed. He did not.


	48. Chapter 48

**a/n he is sooo tiiiired!**

**please drop me a line! thaaaaanks!**

* * *

He drifted through the morning until the guests had left and the family had gone up.

He could do it by rote.

He delegated afternoon duties to Mr Barrow so that he could get a few hours' rest, and was up again to serve dinner, which — thank heaven — was a muted affair.

That evening, he wanted to sit with her despite his exhaustion. She almost refused, but couldn't quite resist the idea of spending a few moments with him.

"Ah, Mrs Hughes. I have a special treat for us tonight."

"Do you now?"

"I do indeed." He indicated the large, half-drunk bottle of scotch on the table.

She widened her eyes and picked it up.

"When did you open this bottle, Mr Carson?"

"At the beginning of the Season. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, nothing, just..."

_Good God, man, I never knew you could drink like that._

She shrugged and set the bottle down.

"It looks like a good one."

"Yes, it's been very nice indeed. Especially with this."

With an only slightly exaggerated flourish, he produced from his desk a bar of fine dark chocolate.

She raised her eyebrows skeptically.

"If you say so."


	49. Chapter 49

**a/n he's still soooo tiiiired... Check the updates, lovelies - there have been several today! and please do drop me a line! **and try the whiskey with dark chocolate thing; it's heaven

**many thanks to partiallyyours for help on this one. **

* * *

He envied the chocolate on her tongue.

He almost told her so, biting back his words just in time.

But on three hours of sleep and a wee dram, he began to feel that all of this had been going on too long.

_Out with it already._

But he couldn't, not quite.

"Do you know this whiskey?" _Oh, how fine. Now you'll embarrass her if she doesn't know._

"Yes, though I've never had it before."

"This is his Lordship's favorite. I was fortunate enough to receive a bottle from the case."

"Well. I should hope you didn't steal it."

He looked up, scowling, only to see the twinkle in her eye.

A pause.

"I'd love to go to Scotland," he said into his glass.

"Would you?"

"I'd like to see where you came from."

Her heart skipped a beat, but she tried to keep her voice steady.

"Argyll is beautiful."

"It must be." He looked at her for a little too long. "Would you ever go with me?"

To catch her breath, she laughed softly at him, wrinkling her nose. He'd never seen her do that before.

"Oh, yes, Mr Carson, let's just arrange a trip next week, shall we?"

He could not help but smirk. She was a nippy sweetie and he _loved_ her for it._  
_

* * *

THE END*

*JUST KIDDING!


	50. Chapter 50

**a/n he is so tired, you guys.**  
**special thanks again to partiallyyours / partiallyanna for help inventing the accidental blurtings.  
special thanks as always to kouw.**

**please drop me a line - i appreciate it so much! sometimes I even take requests. Just sayin.**

* * *

"Oh yes, Mr Carson, let's just arrange a trip next week, shall we?"

She knew he was overly tired, which could make a person tiddly on its own. He might regret his words in the morning, but he was a delight just now.

She continued seriously, "I know it's terrible that I don't know much about scotch. But this is delicious."

_Chocolate and scotch. You. All of this. I wonder how your lips taste with scotch — __stop_ _it, Els._

"There's something you're supposed to do with your tongue to really appreciate it." He leaned his head back tiredly on his chair with a sigh. "I'll show you one day."

She blushed to high heaven. In the end she managed a high-pitched chuckle. "Oh, you will, will you?"

In the silence he'd almost choked on his scotch, horrified at what he'd said.

He was mystified at her laughter, but tried to give as good as he got:

"Mrs Hughes, you torment me. Laughing at a tired old fool."

"Mr Carson, it's time to get you to bed."

"But the chocolate —"

"The chocolate will keep. Now, off to bed with you."

"Very well, then. I'll say goodnight."

"Good night, Mr Carson."

He trudged up to his room, fell into bed and slept immediately.

She knocked back the rest of her glass and the remnants of his, rewrapped the chocolate, and put it in his desk.

Certain he was gone, she locked the door, removed her knickers — then shrugged and removed the rest as well. Naked and sitting on her shift, she curled in that armchair that smelled of leather and him.

She grinned at the wickedness of it all, the _impropriety_ as she spread her legs and began to touch herself. Thinking of him, his hands on her, his _...manhood_… inside her. She thought of his lips on hers, on her throat, her breast. With expert fingers inside and out, she stroked herself to a silent climax again and again and again.

_After all the panic, all the noise, here we are. And everything is different._

She left his window open and walked upstairs smiling, her head held high. She was clothed but barefoot, shoes dangling from her fingers. Her own faint, intoxicating scent lingering on those fingers after washing.

* * *

He woke up embarrassed. His fatigue and a very small glass of scotch had loosened his tongue.

But yet — she'd _laughed_.

* * *

.

.

.

*a/n: credit where credit's due.

The two lines with her saying it's terrible she doesn't know about scotch and him saying the thing about the tongue are all partiallyyours/anna.


	51. Chapter 51

**a/n and the popcorn trail never ends.. drop me a line pls! I LURVE YOU ALL; THANK YOU.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

* * *

At breakfast he felt shy.

_Oh, how fine. __The butler is feeling shy. Breathe, old man.__  
_

She rolled her eyes at him when he intoned something pompous, and he felt flustered. But less shy.

* * *

_"_Mrs Hughes, might I have a word?"

She nodded and followed him into his pantry and he closed the door. She inhaled quickly.

He was standing too close to her, he realized, and he backed away. She almost followed him.

"I just wondered, Mrs Hughes, that is, I wanted to ask you..." He trailed off, looking at her eyes in the bright room.

"Is something wrong, Mr Carson?"

He shook his head. "No, no — I just wanted to ask if I offended you with my remarks last night."

Worried, he waited for her verdict.

She almost succeeded in biting back her smile.

"Not at all. I was glad for our little talk."

A little sigh of relief.

A pause.

"Mrs Hughes, would you like to join me for a little scotch again tonight?"

"I would. Very much. Now, I'm sad to say I must get on."

"So am I."

She stopped short, her hand on the doorknob. Her heart clenched. He was suddenly saying things like this so _freely_.


	52. Chapter 52

**a/n Wednesday. that's Beach Eve, lovelies.**

* * *

He was still recovering from his sleepless night on Monday.

Fortunately for all of them, so was the family.

That night, they had scotch with chocolate again.

"It's quite nice, the way the chocolate and scotch work together."

"I agree, Mrs Hughes. The sharpness of the scotch and the rich smoothness of the chocolate combine ..."

_He 's pontificating._

"...lovely toasted nut flavor…"

She was only half listening to him. She watched him gesture as he discussed the complexities of chemistry and harmony between two such different substances. The combination of scotch and chocolate was indeed marvelous and she enjoyed hearing him speak about a topic that interested him. Up to a certain point.

"...so you see, the whole is greater than the sum of its parts."

She bit her lip to keep from chuckling. She picked up the bottle, a sparkle in her eyes.

"Look, Mr Carson, this is from Scotland, like me. Is the chocolate from Yorkshire?"

He sputtered.

They could both practically hear the words.

_Does that make you chocolate, Mr Carson? Rich and smooth? Melting in the mouth?_


	53. Chapter 53

**a/n the last update from Beach Eve, everyone. NSFW. Please leave me a review if you have time.**

**Thank you,** everyone - for reviews and all the love on tumblr and ffn. Special thanks as always to **kouw** and special thanks to **partiallyyours** for the Beach Eve chapters!

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* * *

"Look, Mr Carson, this is from Scotland, like me. Is the chocolate from Yorkshire?"

He sputtered.

They could both practically hear the words.

_Does that make you chocolate, Mr Carson? Rich and smooth? Melting in the mouth?_

* * *

Desperately he changed the subject.

"That Mr Levinson —"

"Which one?"

"The valet, of course." He scowled.

"Why, has he done something to offend your sensibilities?"

She knew the young man had spoken disrespectfully of Mrs Levinson, but she wasn't about to tell _him_ that.

"He was recommending the hors d'oeuvres to the guests. _Out loud._"

"Oh, heavens!"

Her sarcasm, again — _god_, how she needled him, and he _loved _it. But his diatribe about young Ethan Slade was not finished.

"And do you know what _else_ he did?"

She calmly took a sip, letting the scotch mingle with the chocolate.

"No, Mr Carson, what fresh horrors has he visited upon you?"

"Do you remember when he came to see me? You were just leaving?"

"Yes."

"When you were going up to see Lady Mary in the library?"

"_Yes, _Mr Carson, I remember. What of it?"

"Right. Well, he came in to ask me something, 'man to man.'" He said the words as if they tasted vile.

She smirked at him.

"Don't look at me so, Mrs Hughes — Your scorn pierces my very heart. He came to ask me if there were anything '_going on'_ between our Daisy and young Alfred."

He was utterly charming. She marveled at the distance they'd travelled toward one another.

"And what did you tell him?"

"I said no, of course! And he was terribly impertinent to ask."

She sipped, looked at him calmly. Her heart was pounding, but somehow it didn't bother her. Not now, with them so close and so open.

Then he surprised her: "I wonder if anything _will_ happen between Daisy and Mr Levinson."

She still chuckled at this, because even though she knew he meant the valet, it still sounded as though he were discussing her Ladyship's brother. And the idea of something "going on" between him and Daisy was so ludicrous it made her laugh. Perhaps the scotch had some part in this, but she didn't care.

"Do you think it might?"

He shrugged. "Mrs Patmore doesn't seem worried."

"Oh?"

"She said something about all women needing someone to pay a little attention, preferably in a way not entirely proper."

"Did she now?"

He nodded absently.

"She's right."

He stared at her. He held a sip of scotch in his mouth and didn't dare breathe for fear of choking.

She drank her glass dry, set it down, and stood gracefully.

"Now, I'll say good night, Mr. Carson. We've got a big day tomorrow, what with your 'defeat' of an outing."

He looked at her in confusion and she smiled. She left the room, trembling on the stairs with leftover nerves.

* * *

She undressed in front of the mirror. Slowly. Imagining his fingers taking out her hairpins, his hands opening the many buttons of her dress. How he might slide the dress off her shoulders, open up her corset, and free her from all the layers.

Lying in bed, she imagined his hands all over her body, stroking, pushing, opening her up. She wondered what his fingers would feel like inside her, curling to find that place. How he would press against her, his mouth on her nipple, her hands tangled in his hair, holding him close to her breast. She came undone.

She kept going.

She imagined him replacing his fingers with himself. They would rise and fall together. Him above her, his hand pinning one of hers, his mouth everywhere as he moved within her. Him below her, and she would move against him and they would cry out, finding that release and then falling together in their shared bed.

After, she lay spent and hopeful.

* * *

His pantry still smelled of her — coconut and lemon. He sat for a long while, thinking.

"_She's right."_

She actually _said_ those words. He kept coming back to this reality.

Later, he imagined crossing the corridor and opening her door. No knock, just walking in, touching a shoulder to wake her. Undoing that braid, slipping off her nightgown, running his hands through her hair and all over her body until she begged for him inside her. Oh yes, he would give her what she asked for. He would thrust inside her and he would caress and worship every inch of her, and she would let him, she would like it, he hoped, he wished — he imagined she would give him permission to spill inside her.

He wanted to give himself to her, oh yes. In every way he could, any way she would take him.

The fact that they were unmarried troubled him in daytime; at night it only bothered him after he'd spent himself and lay flat on his mattress, catching his breath.


	54. Chapter 54

**a/n thank you kouw for your beta magic which is awesome as always!**

**please leave me a review. i LOOOOVE THEM. and i LOOVE yooouuu!**

* * *

They sat across from one another, squeezed in on the crowded train to Brighton.

Her ankles were crossed. He noticed her toes just grazing the floor, wondered if she was comfortable.

Maybe under a kitchen table she would rest her feet on his. He wondered if his thoughts were _normal_.

She was reading. Something gruesome, surely.

To anyone else her expression would have appeared neutral, but he saw the slight widening of the eyes, the amused grimace, the tiny frown.

She turned the page and glanced up to find him staring at her. They were only slightly startled.

She blushed and returned his small smile, the tenderness and heat in his eyes.

He turned back to the window.

She returned to her novel.

She looked at the same page for an unusually long time. When he glanced at her, her facial expression was altogether different. Her lower lip was plump and pink from her worrying it. He exhaled shakily and looked away.

_Not __now__, old man._

In her mind she was unbuttoning her blouse and sliding the pin from her hat, staring at him, daring him to notice. He would resolutely stare out the window, but start to sweat as she ran one foot up his calf. He would uncomfortably adjust the coat folded across his lap.

She imagined standing, slowly removing hairpins. Her hair would fall around them as she leaned down, her hands framing him on the hard wooden seat back. She would grasp his chin and make him look at her while she kissed him. Slowly and softly. Then she would back away, him trying to follow her — but she would push him back, sit down, do up her buttons, and leave him gasping while she fixed her hair and went back to her novel.

_As if you could stop there, Els._

She smiled, grateful for the overheated crush of people that explained the flush on her cheeks.


	55. Chapter 55

**a/n  
i LOVE you ladies! thank you the reviews! please keep them coming! MWAH  
thank you always to kouw!**

* * *

He was hovering.

_For heaven's sake, man. It's not as though you were alone with her, what with Mrs Patmore and Daisy not ten feet away._

"Mr Carson, sit down — you're making me nervous." _That smile in her voice._

"I, er — of course, yes."

He lowered himself in as dignified manner as he could, given he was about to sit with her on a blanket just a touch too small for three people.

Meaning there was less than a human body's width between them. Less than a _Daisy's_ width between them. He fought the urge to laugh at that bizarre notion.

They sat almost comfortably together, leaning back on their hands.

It would be so easy to reach for one another.

To touch her hand.

To brush her lips against the shell of his ear.

She sighed. "This is lovely, isn't it?"

"It's a bit warm, but I suppose it will do."

She rolled her eyes, leaned her head back to look at him.

"You can take your coat off, Mr Carson."

"But —"

She made an exasperated sound. "Oh, just take it off, Mr Carson. You'll feel better."

So he did.

There were sandwiches, beer, and lemonade from the hampers they'd brought.

Again she found herself envying the drinking vessels that touched his lips.

As they finished their picnic, a stray football landed very near them, throwing sand across Mr Carson's back. Instantly he turned, ready to excoriate a terrified and apologetic hallboy, but her hand on his shoulder stopped him.

She brushed the sand away. Soon her one hand rested on his upper arm, lightly curled around his bicep, while the other continued brushing.

Her hand and his arm radiated heat through his sleeve. Her grip tightened a little.

They could actually _feel_ each other's rapid heartbeat.


	56. Chapter 56

**a/n  
chelsie on the beach, part 2.  
thank you, everyone, for reading and enjoying and reviewing!  
thank you kouw as always!**

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* * *

They could actually _feel_ each other's rapid heartbeat.**  
**

* * *

She let her hand linger until the limits of propriety were reached. When she broke contact, he released a long, shaky breath.

She sat upright again, smoothing her skirt. He watched her strong hands whose movements accentuated the exact shape of her hips and thighs.

She looked up at him from under her hat. The breeze had freed his hair somewhat from its usual strictures.

He looked delicious.

And he was staring at her body.

"It _is_ a bit warm, isn't it."

He nodded, unable to speak.

"Fancy dipping a toe in the water?"

He regained his voice, only to say something idiotic. To his credit, it was only from nerves.

"Certainly not."

To her credit, she saw right through it.

"Suit yourself." And she started to take off her shoes. Then she thought through the implications and retreated instead to one of the small structures on the beach to remove her stockings.

His former life had given him just enough knowledge of women's undergarments to fluster him. He refused to look anywhere but at the sea as he imagined her undoing her garters, slowly revealing the soft skin of her upper thighs as she rolled her stockings down. He imagined how her bare legs might feel tangled with his own.

She was coming back, her shoes dangling from her fingers. Smiling at him in the bright sunshine.

He changed his mind about the water, hoping it would be cold.


	57. Chapter 57

**a/n chelsie at the beach, part 3**

**please leave me a review, darlings! THAAAANK YOOOUUU  
**

**thank you, kouw!  
**and here's the wading!

* * *

He changed his mind about the water, hoping it would be cold.

* * *

It was.

Shock and pleasure mingled in his sigh.

She looked back at him with a scoff. _Oh my ridiculous lovely man, you needn't resist this._

"Come on! I dare you."

His mind was stalled by the wind blowing her blouse against her corseted form.

"But if get my trousers wet…"_What the hell are you doing? She just __dared_ _you. __Go._

"If you get them wet, we'll dry them."

"Suppose I fall over?"

A small part of his worry was literal. Another tiny part was a ruse to egg her on. The rest was far more terrifying and mostly inarticulate.

_Suppose I fail you? Suppose I've already fallen for you and you don't want this? _

He thought she might, but he did not like uncertainty.

"Suppose a bomb goes off? Suppose we're hit by a falling star? You can hold my hand, then we'll both go in together."

He was stunned.

_Did she just offer _— _She __did._

He might never again have this chance.

"I think I will hold your hand" — she looked down quickly to cover her sudden joy, breathed in and out, concentrated on the water — "It'll make me feel a bit steadier."

_It's high time we held hands, my lovely man._

"You can always hold my hand if you need to feel steady."

It felt like a vow. She prayed he would acknowledge it, return it, do _something_ to move them along in the way the last few days had been going.

"I don't know how but you managed to make that sound a little risqué."

_Thank you, Lord. _

Her laughter was relief mingled with amusement at his endless capacity for pomp.

"And if I did?"

She held out her hand and he took it. He _took it_.

Palm to palm, strong fingers holding fast. His thumb brushing over her knuckles.

"We're getting on, Mr Carson, you and I. We can afford to live a little."


	58. Chapter 58

**a/n  
chelsie at the beach, part 4  
thank you, kouw!**

**thank you, everyone, for lurve on tumblr and ffn! — i love your reviews! — MWAH  
**

* * *

"We're getting on, Mr Carson, you and I. We can afford to live a little."

With their palms pressed together that way, each could have noticed the other's rapid pulse again. But there was too much else happening, so they only guessed at one another's feelings.

_You can always hold my hand if you need to feel steady_.

His mind worked that sentence over and over.

He wanted to pull her into him right now, gently, not making her drop her hem into the water. He would encircle her waist and embrace her. Just hold her close. Everything else could wait until they could have a proper talk alone together.

He unconsciously gave her hand a little squeeze, brushing his thumb over it again.

She smiled up at him, pulling him a little closer.

His frown was finally lifting, but the sun still made him squint.

"You say we can 'live a little,' Mrs Hughes?"

_Oh Lord, __now_ _what is he going to come up with?_

"Yes, Mr Carson. What that means depends on you and me both. I can't do _all_ the work, you know."

She felt a surge of adrenaline as she said it, and her hand not in his began to tremble.

Consternation on his face — until he saw that she was still grinning.

She wished she could bring his hand to her lips.

But everyone could still _see_ them. Suddenly she thought what they must look like from shore.

She loosened her hold and he tightened his.

"Mr Carson, I meant it when I told you you can always hold my hand —"

"Mrs Hughes, I —"

"But everyone can see us. I think we should head back."

They did, dropping their hands, and he wondered.


	59. Chapter 59

**a/n  
chelsie at the beach, part 5  
please leave me a review! thank yooouuu!  
thanks to kouw always!**

* * *

He wondered, worrying, trying to hold on to what she'd promised. She'd even repeated it.

_"You can always hold my hand if you need to feel steady_."

She'd said they could afford to live a little.

_"What that means depends on you and me both."_

They returned to the blanket. Mrs Patmore quickly found an excuse to leave, taking Daisy with her.

She sat a little closer than before — or tried to.

He sat at the far edge of the blanket.

Surrounded by their staff and unaware of her identical impulse, he wished she could lean her head against his shoulder.

They sat in pained silence for a few minutes.

Finally he risked a few words.

"I'd say it's been a successful outing, wouldn't you, Mrs Hughes?"

Their bare feet toyed in the sand.

"I agree. I'm glad you got the idea for a day by the sea."

He frowned.

"But surely it was you — the postcard —"

A cryptic smile, a sideways glance below the brim of her hat. "A woman never reveals her secrets."

"Plotter."

He watched cautiously for her response.

Delighted, she ducked her chin and laughed.

He could breathe again.


	60. Chapter 60

**a/n**  
the end of the beach day.  
please drop me a line to let me know what you think of this sloooow buuuurn! I LOVE your reviews!  
thank you to kouw as always! and evitamockingbird and klswhite and mrpoohnminnie and partiallyyours and chelsie fan and so very many others!

...Golly, that makes it sound like this is the end, doesn't it? Well, it isn't. :D

* * *

Mrs Patmore quickly sat down across from him, forcing them to sit together. Before long, their colleague was asleep.

The train was overfull again.

They tried to prevent their legs from pressing into one another. Gradually, each hoping the other wouldn't notice, they gave up. That useless bit of propriety was not worth the discomfort.

* * *

"'_He is young and strong; there are kisses for us all.' I lay quiet, looking out under my eyelashes in an agony of delightful antici _—"

He gasped in shock. She followed his eyes to her open book, amused and only slightly embarrassed that he'd seen _this_ of all pages.

He looked horrified. "What in God's name are you reading?"

"You would like it, Mr Carson; it's from the last century."

"But it's —"

_Titillating. I want to hear it in your voice._

He swallowed hard.

She spoke quietly, her tone deliberately over-dramatic.

"It's called _Dracula_. A young man, ensnared in the trap of a monstrous and immortal count who drinks the blood of innocents and turns them into abominations like himself. He must free himself, and then save his beloved, a dear sweet lass named Mina, from the very clutches of the beast."

He held up a hand with a look of mock agony.

"Please, Mrs Hughes. Have mercy on an old man."

She smirked. "You're not _that _old."

"Hmm." He smiled, pleased, not knowing how to respond.

* * *

Her head on his shoulder, her body relaxed against his.

She took his breath away.

Torn between letting her sleep and keeping that odious book from falling, he plucked it from her lap with two fingers, marked her page with the ribbon, and folded it into the coat on his lap.

After a time, she startled awake.

"Oh Mr Carson, I'm so sorry."

His voice deep and soft and velvet. "I didn't mind."

She looked up at him and immediately looked away, biting her lip.

He wished he could take her chin and turn her face to his, kissing her softly.

He settled for words instead. "Truly, I didn't."

* * *

She woke again to find that their hands were entwined.

On her _lap_.

Fingers _laced together,_ palm to palm.

Adrenaline shot through her and she could barely breathe as she looked from their hands to his sleeping face.

Not wanting to embarrass him, she managed to extract her hand. Still asleep, he tried to hold on.

She would much rather have kissed and suckled each of his fingers until he was breathless and pressing them into her mouth.

He was vaguely aware of being made to release something very precious. As he woke further, he realized what was happening. He was equal parts mortified, baffled, joyful, and crushed.

They locked eyes for one heated second and looked away, hearts thudding.

Neither slept for the rest of the trip.


	61. Chapter 61

**a/n ermahgerd another one  
thanks, i love you, etc. thanks ****kouw**** and all of you!**

* * *

They could not bear to sit together for sherry. Not after making that _scene_ in the train.

They both knew no one had seen it. But they were reeling from the knowledge that in sleep, their bodies had betrayed the careful control of their minds.

The difference was that now they each knew that the other's body had _also_ rebelled.

* * *

The house buzzed with preparations for their return to Yorkshire.

Neither of them had much actual packing to do.

Still, things were busy. The next day they didn't see much of each other and when they did, they were a little unsure of how to act. Of what was revealed and what was still hidden.

There was just no time to make it right.

* * *

On the evening before he left for Downton, she walked into his pantry to see him asleep, snoring lightly.

Again.

In that same chair. She bit back a smile, thinking of what she'd got up to in that chair.

This time he had no cup of coffee in his hands, thank goodness. She was glad not to have to send her maids in to sweep up the broken china, mop up the coffee.

She approached him. How she would love to wake him with a caress, with the back of her fingers whispering against his cheek. With her breath in his ear. She wondered what he would do.

"Mr Carson?"

He stirred a little and settled back into sleep.

_Poor dear._

"Mr Carson." She placed a tentative hand on his shoulder.

_Just this much will be acceptable. It's chaste, it's still proper._

Confused, he blinked his eyes open.

She immediately withdrew her hand.

When he realized where he was and who was there with him he gave a start. He hoped there wasn't any visible evidence of the dream he'd just been having.

He barely stopped himself from reaching out for her. From putting his hand over hers on his shoulder.


	62. Chapter 62

**a/n** lots of updates. whut whut. thanks, i love you, thanks, please review, etc.

* * *

She'd been both disappointed and relieved to see him go. Just for one night and one day, he wouldn't be around and she could decide what to do next without running into him around every corner. Without hearing him, _smelling_ him so constantly, just across the corridor from her all day and all night.

Oh, his scent was still there in his pantry when she writhed naked in his leather chair on that last night.

But _he_ wasn't there to fluster her. For one day, that suited her nicely.

* * *

She rode back next to Mrs Patmore, who fell asleep against the window.

Mrs Hughes was wide awake. For one thing, her thoughts were consumed with wondering how they should act around each other. The other thing, well, she didn't know whether she talked in her sleep or not, but her state of adrenaline-rushing arousal practically ensured that she would make some horrifically embarrassing sound or scene if she fell asleep.

The walk from the village to the house was agony.

She entered the servants' quarters.

He was there, waiting. He looked worried, as he had during her health scare.

She smiled at him in greeting and went upstairs with her case.

He tried to smile back. He worried that everything would go back to normal now. His heart was pounding in his ears. He didn't know that hers was going just as hard.


	63. Chapter 63

**a/n** finally back at Downton.  
many thanks to kouw and to everyone who reads and enjoys and reviews and talks with me via PM. You are all lovely. THANK YOU!

* * *

The day was a flurry with all of the things that the family's return entailed.

Because she had been away, there was even more work for her than after a usual Season and she was grateful for the day's end.

And for the invitation to sherry.

Her knock startled him; he was at his desk staring into space.

"Ah, Mrs Hughes. Welcome back." He rose with a smile, wishing he could embrace her.

She had the tray with the decanter and the two glasses from her sitting room. He crossed the room and closed the door behind her, since her hands were full.

Her breath hitched as he passed so near her, and he _heard_ it.

She set the tray down on his little table and sat in the red plush chair.

For a second she almost thought she could smell herself in here, but she shook her head.

_That's impossible._

He poured for them and sat down.

_God help me. The stopper._

Her color was high. He paused.

"Are you alright, Mrs Hughes?"

She coughed. "Yes, of course."

They raised their glasses and sipped.

"Did you enjoy your last day in London, Mrs Hughes?"

"Oh yes, very much. We all had champagne and then played cards with the Dowager."

He actually _gaped_ at her. His mouth opened and closed once, twice.

Then she wrinkled her nose and laughed at him in that irresistible way.

In a failed attempt at disapproval, he looked both helpless and delighted.

"And how was your triumphant return to Downton, Mr Carson?"

"My triumphant return." He was shaking his head and smiling. "You jest, Mrs Hughes, but with one exception, it was a pleasant return indeed. It's always nice to come back a day early and see _you_, so that was different — missing — this time."

She raised her eyebrows.

"I know, I never say it, but it's true." He spoke this into his sherry glass.

Her voice turned soft. "Well. Thank you, Mr Carson."

Their hearts were pounding and their sherry glasses empty.

"I think — I'll say good night then."

"Good night, Mrs Hughes."

She started to open the door.

He had stood when she rose to leave.

He reached for it at the same time she did, intending to open it for her.

Their hands touched on the doorknob. Lingered. It was _indecent_.


	64. Chapter 64

Their hands touched on the doorknob. Lingered. It was _indecent._

He jerked his hand away as though she had burned him — falling back two steps, three.

She turned, her hand still on the doorknob. At the look in his eyes she dropped her hand, took a step backward, and felt the door against her back. She sent up a prayer of thanks for its support behind her.

They both spoke at once.

"Mr Carson —"

"Mrs Hughes —"

They stopped, desperate. They stared at each other, not knowing what to say.

He had a question in his eyes.

She looked at him, biting her lip, wanting. He could _finally_ see it.

"Your poor lip..." he whispered, then looked a bit frightened — he thought he'd destroyed the mood.

He needn't have worried.

She gave one breathless syllable of laughter, then a nervous smile, willing him to come to her, to answer these maddening riddles once and for all.

His hand trembled as he reached toward her, paused, hesitated mid-air. She nodded faintly and he came closer. She held her breath, then gasped, just barely resisted jerking with her hips as he brushed his thumb across her lip. His fingertips rested lightly along her jawline.

She closed her eyes and leaned her head into his touch.

At his shaky intake of breath, she looked up at him with those incredible eyes, dark now in the lamplight. He wanted to close the distance between them, but he wasn't sure how. Didn't know whether it was allowed.

She inhaled quickly through open lips. She turned her face toward his retreating hand as he trailed his fingers slowly back around her ear, tracing its contour, smoothing her hair behind it.

His thumb rested against her cheekbone. He stared at his hand in wonder, astonished that she was letting him touch her so _very_ intimately.

His fingertips slipped in between the strands of her hair and he blinked, swallowed hard, exhaled.

He moved closer. She met him halfway. His other hand shook, hovering inches from her waist.

She reached for him, her hands chaste on his shoulders, bold as they made contact with his burning skin. She touched his cheek with her fingertips, her thumb moving over his evening stubble. Learning the textures of him. Her other hand lay heavy on the back of his neck, drawing him closer.

His hand landed on her waist and he pulled her into him.

He leaned in and she reached up and at last they touched, at last they were kissing, his lips on hers, hers on his, he finally tasted that pretty mouth and they very quickly became breathless, passionate, their knees weak.

They stumbled, nearly losing their balance, and broke apart in shock. They were rather mortified as they looked at one another. Her flushed lips, his mussed hair. To avoid embarrassing both of them even further, she resolutely did not look at his growing erection.

* * *

**a/n** **hey, you. the cutie reading this story. how you doin?**


	65. Chapter 65

**STOP NOW IF YOU DIDN'T READ 64 YET.**

**(multiple updates in one day and this one is pretty important)**

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"Mrs —"

"Do you —"

A pause. Insanity, thudding hearts, frozen in place.

"Mrs Hughes, I must apolo—"

She gave a tiny moan of exasperation. A rapid shake of her head. His voice cut off before he could finish the word.

_No. Absolutely not. You are not apologizing for this, you impossible man, not now_.

He held his breath.

"This is absurd." Her voice, cutting through the nonsense.

He looked as terrified as he felt.

He managed "What's absur —"

And she took his face in her hands and kissed him, pulling him back with her as she landed against the door. He was not quite sure what to do with his hands.

Gravity took care of his uncertainty, as he suddenly had to support himself with one hand on the door as the other slid around her waist, wrapped her up, held her close.

— _oh god her corset what do I do with that_ —

— _that's assuming she lets me do anything at all with it _—

She was kissing him, _kissing him_, finally and he was mad for her, he wanted to — he wanted to do _so many things_ he didn't even know what to do. Where to start. They were already against the door so he settled on that. That and kissing her, of course.

She opened her mouth, _her mouth_ and he could taste her; she tasted of sherry, and their tongues touched, shyly, but they listened and learned and allowed it all to bloom right there in that little room.

He pressed into her and their kiss became even more passionate, her clutching at his head, the back of his neck, running her fingers over the shell of his ear, making him shiver.

He bent closer and she drew him in, her arm around his shoulder. Her mouth on his, _god_, he would stand here with this woman forever in this drafty butler's pantry that had smelled like _her_ coconut oil shampoo when he'd got home the previous day.

He knew this couldn't go on but he didn't want to stop her, didn't want to hand her that rejection on top of every other asinine thing he'd ever said to her.

She knew it too. She broke the kiss and turned her head to the side to catch her breath, and his mouth was on her neck. He held her tightly, her shoulders against the door and her back arching, pressed against him where she could feel his hardness —

"Mr Carson —" A breathless gasp, barely audible over the rushing in their ears.

He groaned in response and continued his sweet torment of the sensitive skin behind her ear.

"Mr Carson, we have to — we have to stop —"

"Wha — oh no — I'm so sorry —" He pulled back immediately, afraid he had hurt her, defiled her, certain of being in the wrong.

She saw it on his face and shook her head with a quick smile.

"We have to stop _now_. But not — not _always, _I should think —"

She gasped at her own boldness and bit her lip yet again.

He looked at her in wonder, his open hands reaching for her as she pulled away. She squeezed his hands to reassure him and his face registered several emotions in turn.

Then she rallied her self-control. It was the _second_ most difficult thing of this nature that she'd done in her life, but the most difficult one still made her shudder with the memory of that breathless concealment and tormented stillness.

"It grieves me, Mr Carson, but I must say good night."

And she slipped away with a terribly sweet smile, those shining eyes. She closed the door behind her.

He sank into his desk chair, bewildered.

For half a second he was horrified at his actions. Then, remembering her responses and her _words_, those astounding words — "_Not __always_" — he was exhilarated.

_She wants you too, old man. She might even love you._

Suddenly he knew _exactly_ how to make it right.

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**a/n:** **hey sweetpea, are you okay? drop me a line...**


	66. Chapter 66

**Chapter 66!**

**STOP NOW IF YOU DIDN'T READ 64 YET.**

**(multiple updates in one day and this one is pretty important)**

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She left his pantry and went upstairs, shaking with nerves and desire.

She'd been bold and he'd been afraid and she hoped she'd done the right thing by saying those words.

_If not, well. If not, then we're doomed._

_How lovely._

She rolled her eyes at herself and grinned.

_Och, Els. He wants you. Looks like he __loves_ _you as well._

She was elated. Carrying her lit candle through the dark attic corridor, she made her way to her room wearing a brilliant smile.

She undressed slowly, remembering his kisses. His hands caressing her face. His thumb on her lips. His arms around her waist, pulling her into him and she could _feel_ it pressing against her; she could _tell_ he wanted her.

Incontrovertible evidence. She bit back her grin, then set it free.

She lay in bed. Her hands cupped her breasts, grazed her nipples, then she slid one hand down her body. She lay on her back, imagining him above her. She _knew_ now how his lips felt, how he breathed when he was aroused. She _knew_ the way he held her, trembling with restraint, wanting to go further but respecting her wishes.

She had thought of her hairbrush, but she wanted nothing but skin on skin tonight. She knew they couldn't be … _together_ … without being married. But it didn't stop her wanting him, and with fresh, vivid, and very physical memories, she touched herself. Joyfully, silently, and expertly, she gave herself release several times before falling asleep.

She dreamed of him and woke in the middle of the night with her fingers _right there_. Without shame and without guilt, she came undone to the images from her dreams.

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He sat at his desk for a long few moments, smiling. _You're grinning like a madman, Charlie, but you __are_ _mad for her._

He knew what to do.

_How_ was another question, and to a lesser extent_, when (as soon as possible)_.

For now, he had to take care of _this_. He was grateful to her for closing the door.

_Wonderful, impossible woman, leaving like that. But what do you expect of her, Charlie? To sneak around? To live in sin with you? You wouldn't want that for her either._

Unaware that she'd played with a glass sherry stopper in the dark in this very chair, he touched himself and came undone to the memory of her. Her lips. Her hands on his face. Her back arching, her body pressing into his through all those layers of clothing.

He slept awfully well.


	67. Chapter 67

She woke up feeling well-rested.

Mid-stretch, she remembered — with a full-body thrill that started at her heart and rushed through her sex — his hands on her face, his kiss, his lips on her neck.

The risks she'd taken with her bold words.

She needed to see him. She'd said so much and he'd said so little, but she could see that he was overwhelmed. He'd let her leave, his open hands reaching for her even as she'd moved away.

She hurried downstairs and looked for him. Tried to look normal. Stern face, jingling keys.

He was neither in his pantry nor in the Servants' Hall.

She took refuge in her sitting room. Leaving her door very slightly ajar, she sat at her desk to collect herself.

She rested her head in her hands, taking a moment to relax because on top of all of this, they had a hectic day ahead of them. Guests coming — and so soon after the Season — and the continued frenzy of sorting everything after the family's return.

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Thinking her door closed, he walked past, but noticed that it was just resting against the jamb.

He breathed a sigh of relief laced with nerves, excitement, arousal — because he'd been looking for her and he needed to see her —

_— I have to touch her again, taste her — if she'll let me —_

Her words had been so courageous even though they only hinted at what might be. And he needed to know if she regretted them.

He knocked softly.

"Come in," she called. She turned in her desk chair.

He tried to look as calm as possible. He closed the door behind him. He hesitated, facing the door. His hand on the doorknob, he turned his head to look at her.

"Mrs Hughes, you might think me too forward," he began.

_Where on earth is he headed with that notion?_

He must have mistaken her confusion and curiosity for indignation, because his shoulders sagged.

But he had to say it, had to be brave for her. "I — I wanted to ask if I might lock the door."

Her eyes wide, her raised eyebrows. Blushing, she smiled.

"Yes, Mr Carson. Please do."

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**a/n hey, you. how you doin, sweetpea?**

**extra-special thanks to kouw!**


	68. Chapter 68

He locked the door and turned to her.

In the bright light of day, they were full of questions, none of which could be answered by him standing and her sitting there.

But they lingered, taking in the beauty of the beloved. The color of her eyes, the curve of his growing half-smile.

It was the moment when they could still breathe, but only just.

She stood and took a few steps toward him. He unconsciously reached in her direction. She stopped.

He looked at her carefully.

"Mrs Hughes, is everything — that is, are you alright?"

_Darling, wonderful, daft man_.

Her heart felt as if it had both skipped a beat and melted. She couldn't speak, so she just smiled at him, nodded, and held out her hands.

He rushed to her, taking her face in his hands and slowing at the last second. Their breath trembled until their lips finally met, softly, then passionately.

Then his one hand was on her lower back, the other in her hair, his lips on her neck — and she struggled to keep quiet.

She pulled back and claimed his mouth again, one hand around his shoulder and the other inching down his arm. Not quite certain what to do with her hands, she found she also couldn't quite be bothered to worry.

A brisk knock startled them apart.

"Mrs Hu — _ow!_" Anna's voice dropped to a quiet hiss of pain as her shoulder hit the door. They heard her hurry away after half a second's pause.

His hand behind her head, he leaned in to kiss her forehead and she let her hands rest on his chest. They caught their breath, desperately wanting to kiss again. He pulled away, the desire in his eyes unmistakable.

"We have to go," he said quietly.

"I know," she sighed. A pause, then a small rueful laugh. "Poor Anna."

"Are you _alright_, Mrs Hughes? Are _we_ alright?"

"You keep asking that." A small smile.

"I'm sorr —"

"No! No. It's lovely that you ask, Mr Carson. This — we — it's alright; it's more than alright. But right now we need to appear as though _this" — _she gestured to the space between them — "had not just been happening."

She watched him nod and straighten his waistcoat. The butler returned.

They decided it would be best to act as though nothing at all had happened. Even checking the corridor would look suspect.

She checked her reflection and tidied her hair.

When she turned to him again, her eyes flicked downward. _Oh_,_ poor dear — he is going to need another moment._

Taking his coat off would _not_ do, so she handed him a ledger — she refused to embarrass him by explaining — and they simply unlocked the door and emerged, calmly discussing the arrangements for the incoming houseguests. Gratefully carrying the ledger low in front, he ducked into his pantry to wait it out.

At breakfast they didn't even need to pretend. Being around all the others brought them straight back to the reality of their life in service.

They were extremely lucky it had been Anna.

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**a/n how you doin', sweatpea? drop me a line, pleeze. mwah!  
**thanks always to kouw!


	69. Chapter 69

They could not be behind locked doors. Not ever.

Anyone other than Anna discovering it could have lost them their position.

There was always someone about. Passing one another anywhere in the house was both heart-pounding excitement and inevitable disappointment, as they were never even able to touch one another.

It also provided material for their fevered late-night imaginings.

SItting together for sherry was impossible; the houseguests kept him serving drinks until the wee hours.

In her room she pleasured herself. Sometimes slowly, sensuously, with the brush handle or only with fingers. Sometimes frantically, needing release after a particularly frustrating day.

That day they had crossed paths in a narrow corridor. They glanced in either direction before meeting one another's eyes.

"Mrs Hughes."

"Mr Carson."

"I miss you," he whispered.

She melted. "I miss you t—"

But he cupped her face and kissed her, pushed her back against the wall and she went willingly, smiling. They broke apart just as quickly, because someone was coming. They heard and smelled him before they saw him and they were grateful for a few seconds to compose themselves before Mr Barrow passed by.

At least finding an innocuous topic of conversation came easily to them; household matters knew no end.

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**a/n I want to know, baybee. I want to know your thoughts and feels.**

many thanks to all of you! and special thanks to kouw!


	70. Chapter 70

Incessant extra work and the family's late nights reduced their encounters almost entirely to gatherings at the table in the Servant's Hall. The heated point of contact between her left knee and his right made it difficult to speak, but they were not willing to give it up for the sake of words in such a public space.

After several days of this, the guests finally left, the house returned to something resembling normalcy, and she came to his pantry for an evening chat.

She immediately noticed the bottle of scotch instead of the usual sherry decanter.

"I thought we could enjoy the whole being greater than the sum of its parts tonight."

She raised her eyebrows, wide-eyed, and he actually _stumbled_ over his words.

"I — I just — I just meant the scotch and chocolate —"

"Oh, I know what you mean, Mr Carson. It sounds lovely."

Somewhat calmer, he still very nearly spilled the scotch.

They sat quite close together, nearly touching but not quite ready to do so, savoring the blending of the flavors.

"Mr Carson, I believe you were going to show me something about the tasting of scotch."

She blushed as soon as she'd said it. So did he.

"I'm not sure I know to what you refer, Mrs Hughes."

"You're a terrible liar, do you know that?" She spoke into her glass, then took a sip.

His eyes widened. He hadn't thought it possible for her to fluster him more, but there they were.

"So," she continued, "what was it, then? Something with the tongue?"

He cleared his throat. Twice.

"Well, er, you're supposed to take just a little bit into your mouth —"

She did. Though she was no expert, she did know just a little about tasting scotch. She was enjoying the sound of his voice, low and sensual. That, and his obvious discomfort.

"And then you sort of — slowly — ahem — swirl it around your tongue."

She did this too. He imagined the movement of the liquor in the spaces of her mouth and he gripped the side of his chair with one hand. His knuckles turned white. She looked at him expectantly.

"Er. You're also supposed to notice the the consistency of it. Whether it feels thick, or oily, or gritty — it's called the — ahem, the 'mouthfeel.' You want to let it touch all of your tastebuds. All — erm — all over your tongue."

She did. She was _tormenting _him. He pressed on.

"So, you can swallow it, and then you open your mouth a little bit"

— _oh dear god did I just tell her to open her mouth? _—

She swallowed, smiled at him, and parted her lips —

He rushed through the next part, hoping she would close her mouth and hoping she wouldn't — "And you let just a little bit of air in and then let it out slowly through your nose."

She closed her mouth and did so.

"That's called the 'finish,' You might notice some different flavors."

"That was delicious, Mr Carson. Thank you."

She smiled brilliantly at him and stood up. He started to stand, but she stopped him with one hand on his shoulder, the other at his cheek. She leaned in and kissed him with scotch on her lips. He reached up for her and was about to pull her onto his lap when a knock at the blasted door startled them.

_God damn it, these little _—

_Och, what can it be now _—

It was a young housemaid with a sick headache, terrified of Mr Carson, only knocking at his door because Mrs Hughes's bedroom had been empty and her sitting room locked.

The maid waited outside the closed door, and he stayed seated — a rarity for him — while Mrs Hughes got up to open it. With a sigh, she left to fix a headache powder for the girl (_it won't do her much good with that kind of headache, poor dear_) and to make sure she got upstairs again safely.

"I'll say goodnight, then."

"Good night, Mrs Hughes."

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**a/n: i can only assure you that the goobers are as frustrated as you are. i don't know how much more of this bulsht they can take. Bring it on — let me have your wrath!**

thank you to everyone who read and reviews and gives the love on tumblr! you all are wonderful! and special thanks to kouw the magical beta!


	71. Chapter 71

He was miserable.

He was certain that his deeds spoke against any claim he might make to being the _man of integrity and honor_ that she had once called him.

Taking so much from the woman he loved without speaking about it, without promising her anything, ran counter to everything he felt about her.

The very next evening they met for scotch and chocolate again.

She had locked his door, hoping against hope that no one would disturb them. Then she had crossed the room to him where he stood, pulled him down to her, and kissed him. Tenderly, and then with open mouths and shy tongues and barely-contained passion.

He gently pushed her away by the shoulders. Cursing himself for causing the look of pain he now saw on her face, he wrapped her up in his arms, kissing the top of her head.

"Can we —" he gestured toward the table.

She still felt a bit shaky. She had not expected him to stop them so soon, but maybe this was for the best.

A pause.

He asked if the young maid would be alright.

"Oh — yes, I suppose so. She was really suffering last night. She's feeling a little better today."

Another pause, rather uncomfortable. Then he spoke.

"We get interrupted so often."

"We do." She was cautious.

"It's part of our lives."

"Yes."

"What we signed up for."

"I think perhaps we didn't sign up for not wanting to be interrupted."

He looked at her in confusion.

"What do you —"

"I mean —"

They both stopped, holding their breath.

She pursed her lips and shook her head slightly.

"Sometimes I wish we could have the time to finish a conversation before these children come knocking at the door." She looked at her hands.

His heart was pounding. "Do you?"

She looked up at him quickly.

"Don't you?" She wondered if she'd said too much.

"Yes. I do." His voice was softer than she'd ever heard it.

He did something incredibly brave then. He held out his hand to her across her table.

She stared at his hand and then up into his eyes. The longing was back, but accompanied by a sadness she had only seen a handful of times before.

In a strange instance of misinterpretation, he saw only the alarm in her eyes and started to withdraw his hand. He was humiliated, certain that she found him maudlin, ridiculous. In a rush she reached for him and held his hand tightly.

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**a/n: Hey, schweetheart! How are you doing? Do you have the wrath? The blues? The feels? Let me know!  
**MWAH

thx to kouw xo


	72. Chapter 72

He stared at their clasped hands across the table.

He blinked, looked up at her for a second. He was fairly certain this could only mean one thing. But he was incapable of speech for a moment.

She misread his silence as a prelude to rejection and started to let go of his hand. But he held on tightly with both hands now.

"Mrs Hughes, I — I _would_ like more time. With you. Alone with you."

She inhaled sharply and worried her lip. The tension in the room made her heart pound and she was fighting back tears.

He stared again at their hands, their white knuckles. Their trembling was barely controlled by the tightness with which they held on.

"In fact, I wish... I wish for a little cottage for just the two of us."

She listened with a small and growing smile. Excitement rushed through her body at the idea of living alone with this man.

Finally he said it out loud. "I wish we were married. I wish — I wish I could kiss you again. I wish ..."

He trailed off, miserable. He was cocking it all up. _Butler of a great estate, and you turn into a bumbling idiot with this woman_.

"Oh, Mr Carson."

He looked up at her with a mixture of anticipation and despair on his face. Her voice was so soft, so kind, that he was sure she was about to either break his heart or save him. Her beautiful eyes shone with tears as she spoke.

"You only have to ask."

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**a/n: are you ok? drop me a line. i looove yoouuuu**


	73. Chapter 73

"You only have to ask."

His mouth was open in shock.

"What?"

"I believe you heard what I said." She spoke even more softly than a moment earlier. Her eyes shone even more brightly.

"Mrs Hughes, I —" _It can't be. She's serious._

She looked at him, her eyebrows raised, but her expression kind. Her calm demeanor masked a storm of emotion and sensation that she was determined to contain until she was entirely, without a doubt, sure of him. Which, she felt fairly certain, would be very soon.

He was starting to believe this might be real.

"I —"

She smiled to see this lovely man falling apart. She knew he was safe with her, but she did not want to interrupt him, so she waited.

He abruptly got out of his chair and dropped to one knee. She gasped.

"Mrs Hughes, I love you."

Insanely, it seemed, arousal shot through her along with a rush of adrenalin. Her heart was racing.

"I love you too, Mr Ca —"

"Marry me. Please. Please. Will you marry me?"

She burst into laughter at this — how absurd their miscommunications had been. He was horrified, but she quickly recovered enough to lean forward to him, kiss him once, hard and fast, and whisper forcefully against his lips, "Yes. Absolutely. Yes."

Then she pulled him to his feet and he took her face in his hands and kissed her softly, trembling with restraint.

Their kiss deepened and very quickly they became breathless. She was aware of his erection and he knew it. He was embarrassed but she smiled kindly.

"I understand."

_I can't touch it yet, as much as I crave you. You'll have to take care of it yourself until we are married._

He was astounded.

_She understands? What —how —?_

He swallowed hard and looked at her. With sudden clarity, he realized that there was only one thing they could do at this point.

"I think perhaps we'd better say goodnight."

She nearly _giggled_ at that, pulling him down to her to kiss him — but she surprised him, taking his head in her hands and kissing his forehead instead.

"Off to bed with you, then. I'll go up too."

He pulled her rapidly into a tight embrace which she returned. Pressing a kiss into her hair, he inhaled her.

"You smell so good."

A thrill shot through her at his sudden boldness and she let out a shaking breath, barely refraining from convulsing against him in a way that would be too intimate for them in their unmarried state. She pulled out of their embrace, brought his head down to hers and kissed his mouth once, then pushed him gently.

He opened the door and she followed him into the dim corridor.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too."

Unable to spend another minute together without embarrassing them both, they hurried up to their rooms.

* * *

**a/n: how are you doing, darling?  
are you dead? are you alive? tell me your feels! i hope you liiiiiked iiiiiiit! :D**

**your reviews mean a lot to me!**

thank you kouw my wonderful beta!


	74. Chapter 74

**NSFW. multiple-post day! read 69 first. whee!**

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They hurried up to their rooms.

She'd washed her hairbrush and locked her door and now she undressed slowly. In her mind, it was his hands undoing her hair — maybe even braiding it.

She doubted he would want to do such a thing, but it made her smile to think of it.

She wanted his hands unbuttoning her dress. Opening her busk. His hot wet mouth suckling a nipple through her shift.

She silently mouthed indecent words: "_Yes, yes, my man,_ _I want your hands everywhere, my man, your mouth, your lips, I want you, I want you..._"

He undressed more quickly than usual, imagining her hands removing all those layers. Deftly and urgently she would open his trousers, free his cock, and give him permission to take her.

She lay on her back, her fingers sliding in and out, pressing deliciously. With the other hand she stroked herself as she imagined him touching her, opening her. Her legs fell wide to accommodate his body as she wished for him between her thighs.

He touched himself, sitting in bed. She would open up and take him in, maybe push up to meet him. He might kiss and suck on her nipples, if she would let him — he wondered wildly if his wanting that was _normal. _He would kiss her neck — _she seems to like that_ — and then brace himself on his hands and knees and seek entrance.

She slowly pushed the curved handle of her hairbrush into herself, pulsing it against that place, savoring the rush of pleasure it brought. Then she pushed in and out, over and over and over. Slowly, drawing out her pleasure.

His hand moved faster as he imagined her arching beneath him, pushing against him, her legs around him. Maybe she would cry out his name. In reality he feared hurting her. In his fantasies he was free to pound into her. He gripped the sheets, sweating, and he came, mouthing her name as he imagined filling her with his seed.

He came back to bed after cleaning himself and fell into a lovely, restful sleep.

She rolled her hips back and forth, moving the handle in and out, deeper. Her fingers slid over — her — her _clitoris_; the word was still difficult to say, so clinical — and between her lips.

Imagining him thrusting inside her, she moved faster and faster. Stroking, pushing, retreating, over and over until she could feel the muscles of her sex start to tighten around the brush handle and she knew it was going to happen, and then she was arching, breathless in ecstasy, mouthing his name as she shook with her climax.

She came down, breathing hard.

Pulling out, she shuddered with the aftershocks. She turned on her side and cupped her sex for a few moments, then slid a fingertip in between. She gasped, jerking involuntarily.

After a moment she went on all fours, letting her weight push her thighs apart. Resting on one elbow, she brought her hand up to touch herself again. Soon she came again — silently but for her ragged breath.

Positioning the brush beneath her, she slid down on the handle. She wanted him caught between her thighs; she would rise and fall and he would thrust gently to make her come undone, crying out his name — then finally he would let go and spill inside her.

Finally she lay spent and happy. After a wonderful and rather exhausting day, she welcomed the deep sleep that overcame her.

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**a/n: How you doin?**

**MWAH. I love your reviews. Tell me your wrath, your sads, your happy, your explosions! (pretty please)**


	75. Chapter 75

He woke up baffled, elated, and a bit scattered.

He wasn't sure what she'd meant:_"I understand."_

He wanted her so badly. _So badly_, and now he was free to admit it to himself.

His fantasies might actually come true.

_She agreed to __marry_ _you, Charlie. Now go and make it happen. Figure out the details, old man, and meet your bride._

Irrationally, he felt a sense of panic. He was not one to break an engagement and he was sure she wasn't either but such knowledge had little bearing on the urgency with which he needed to see her that morning.

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He rushed downstairs, nearly bowling her over.

"Mr Carson, are you quite alright?" Her _smile_, good god —

She led him to her sitting room and closed the door.

"Mrs Hu —"

But she had pushed him into a chair and was actually sitting on his _lap_, this wondrous creature, suddenly so very bold, and she kissed him deeply. His hands strayed down to her hips and she was making little _moans_ — good _god_, he'd never heard that before and it was incredible.

Then she broke the kiss, smiling, and rested her forehead against his, her arms draped around his neck.

"Yes, Mr Carson?"

"Mrs Hughes, I — good morning."

"Good morning." She gave him another soft kiss on the lips and stood up, sitting across the table from him.

He frowned, but she wrinkled her nose and grinned at him. At that he could not but give her a proud, adoring little smile.

He finally managed to speak: "We have some business to attend to."

"If you're talking about household matters, I won't have it, Mr Carson. Not before breakfast, not today."

He frowned, but at the sparkle in her eye, he understood.

"No, Mrs Hughes. I am talking about our future."

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**a/n: drop me a liiiine pls xoxo**


	76. Chapter 76

He'd always thought he'd die in harness, but suddenly retirement seemed very appealing.

His Lordship blustered and the Dowager tutted, but thanks to the intervention of every other member of the family, Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes's employers became amenable to the idea of two still able-bodied servants taking leave of their employ to live in wedded bliss.

Mrs Bute proved a willing, capable, and grateful replacement. So did Mr Molesley, a trained valet and butler — though it took some convincing for Mr Carson to accept him as a successor.

They chose a cottage. Unbeknownst to them, Mr Branson then managed to modernize it with indoor plumbing, including an actual bathroom with an enormous tub. Had they known his reasons for the tub, they would have been mortified. Mr Branson himself didn't like to think about it in too much detail, but he did want to provide the two of them with as much comfort as possible.

The banns were read.

They endured several weeks of torment.

Their acute awareness of soppy smiles from the younger staff.

The increasing temptation to push one another further than they ought to go. Stolen kisses in corridors, roaming hands at night. They kept their evenings short and left the door open.

Teasing him in her sitting room at the end of an evening — naughty words about the kiss at the wedding. Needling him to see what he would do, she started to walk away. He caught her forearm and spun her into him, whispering roughly in her ear.

"_How would you like me to kiss you at our wedding, Mrs Hughes? In front of everyone. What kind of kiss do you want? Do you want it like this?"_

And he kissed and nipped at her neck, her earlobe, the tender skin that was so rarely touched.

Trembling, delighted, she laughed and hung on to his shoulders as her knees buckled.

The night before the wedding, they fled each other. She spent time with Anna and Mrs Patmore, drinking tea and talking at the table in the Servants' Hall. He went up early, secluding himself in his room.

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**a/n: hey sweetpea, how you doin? i loooove your reviews. tell me all about it.**

**MWAH**


	77. Chapter 77

a/n — wedding bells are ringing.

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Obviously he couldn't kiss her like _that _in church. They shared a chaste little peck.

They suffered through the congratulations and made their stately way, arm in arm, hearts thudding, to their new home.

Once inside the door they dropped their things and flew at each other. Her hairpins were everywhere, her heavy silk hair wrapped around his fingers.

It was the middle of the day but they didn't _care._

They stumbled to the bedroom, tearing at each other's clothing. He stopped at her corset, helpless. She scoffed breathlessly and spoke fast.

"I'll do it for you this time, darling, but after that you'll have to learn."

He looked scared but he was enjoying it all the same.

She sat down and made him take off her stockings with his trembling hands. He managed to remove his shoes and socks. She tore at his trousers and he stripped off his shirt and vest.

When the final layers were gone, they barely had the wherewithal to throw the blankets back before tumbling together into bed, side by side.

He fondled her breasts; she moaned her affirmations.

She ran her hands down his chest, wrapping her fingers around his erection and he groaned with pleasure.

"Mr Carson, please — now…"

Thanks to her book and how thoroughly aroused she was, she was unafraid of how big it was.

She rolled onto her back and she pulled him with her, opening herself to him. Her breath shook in anticipation. He looked between her legs and then at her face, asking permission.

"Yes! Please. I want you. Here."

She took his hand and pressed it against her sex. She brought his fingers to her heat, her wetness, shuddering as he became slightly bolder.

"I want you. Please, Mr Carson —"

"Mrs Hughes — Mrs Carson, my darling, I love you I need you I — ohhhh god —"

And he moved over her and she guided him and he pressed, slowly, and slid into her. They arched together. Loudly, deeply, she moaned her pleasure.

He stopped moving entirely. She opened her eyes, staring at him in frustration.

"Wha — Why — don't stop!"

"Am I hurting you?" He was so worried.

"No! God, no. Not at all. I feel — so good, my love. So good. So g — oh god! Yes!"

He began to move within her and she met him stroke for stroke. It was everything. It was madness, ecstasy, climbing together and he was _inside_ her, actually _inside_ _her_, thick and hard between her legs, thrusting deeply. It was more than anything she'd imagined and the pleasure, oh god, the pleasure was growing and growing and —

His breath in her ear —

"Mrs — I love you I love you I'm going to — oh god —" and he thrust breathlessly, silently — two, three more times, then stiffened against her — and then she felt his release inside her.

He was in bliss, he was the happiest man in the world and he covered her with kisses — on her mouth eyes neck nose collarbone — as she shook beneath him. He slipped out of her and kissed her deeply.

She returned his kiss passionately and then some, wishing for the words to make him come back, touch her again, to use his hands if he couldn't anymore, but then he was talking to her through his sleepy haze.

"My darling, my love, I adore you so — "

He was so tired, but he got up to fetch a warm, damp cloth to clean it from her thighs. He misunderstood the trembling of her body as he stroked her tenderly. Returning from the bathroom, he wrapped himself around her, her back to his chest.

He fell asleep.

She was going mad.

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**a/n — tell me about it. tell me all about it, darling.**

**many thanks to kouw!**


	78. Chapter 78

**a/n: Multiple updates! read 77 first please!**

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He fell asleep.

She was going mad.

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Shaking with arousal and seething with fury, she extracted herself from his embrace and went to the bathroom.

_How could he?_

She wrapped herself tightly in her dressing gown and let the angry tears come as she sank to the floor.

_How dare he?_

She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes and tried to breathe deeply. Ragged sobs took over instead.

All the passion. All the restraint of the past several weeks — _the past bloody __twenty years__, more like _— gone up in a puff of mediocrity and unfulfilled want.

Gradually, she managed to catch her breath.

_What the hell is wrong with him?_

— But it _wasn't_ mediocrity. No, it was the most wonderful pleasure and he had moved inside her and it had felt so _good_ and then it was over.

She needed release. Now_._

She stood up and then with one foot on the tub she stroked herself, sliding two fingers inside and the fingers of her other hand circling her _cli-_ — _Oh, to hell with that sodding word, to hell with that sodding man and his bloody selfishness._

But she was going to have to say that word, in order to tell him what she wanted — needed, ached for — from him. A few more minutes of her own expert touch was all it took before she reached her own climax.

Afterward, she felt more forgiving.

She hung up her dressing gown, slipped back in between the sheets with him, and sighed. This was going to be more complicated than she'd hoped.

It wasn't entirely surprising.

_He doesn't know._

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**a/n: how you doin? drop me a line. xoxo**


	79. Chapter 79

It was bizarre to be in bed with him. Naked. With him sleeping.

_Being in bed clothed and awake with him would be terribly strange too, Els._

It had all happened so quickly.

He snored softly, his arm around her. She stirred, trying to get comfortable, and he pulled her closer.

It was astonishing, the way he wanted to envelop and claim her even in his sleep.

As for what they'd done earlier — she knew he'd _meant_ well. The whole thing was just terribly infuriating.

She sighed in frustration.

Eventually she found sleep.

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She woke to find him poking against her. She didn't remember reading about _this_.

She turned her head to look at him. He was still asleep.

She turned in his arms to kiss him awake. He opened his eyes and immediately wrapped her more tightly in his arms.

"Ahhh, Mrs Hu — Carson. My love..."

She wondered what to do. She bit her lip and he pulled back, ready to drown in her smiling deep blue eyes. When he saw her face, he froze.

"Oh my god. What's wrong?"

"Well — " she began. She hesitated.

It was one thing to do it herself, and quite another to describe it. To _him_.

His mind raced with all manner of horrible imaginings.

_I've hurt her. She didn't want to. I've forced her somehow. _

She kissed him with all the tenderness she could manage, then pulled back, catching her upper lip in her teeth.

She took a deep breath.

"There's something I'd like to show you."

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**a/n: please do leave me a note, you lovely people! thanks!**


	80. Chapter 80

**a/n: start with 77 today...**

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Late in the evening, they sat at their kitchen table in pajamas and dressing gowns.

It had taken several glasses of wine, but finally she'd found the courage to show him a passage of _Married Love._

She had been sorely tempted to make him read it aloud, but it would have been cruel.

He grew more and more uncomfortable as he read.

"_... in distressingly many cases the man's climax comes so swiftly that the woman's reactions are not nearly ready, and she is left without it."_

He stared unfocused at the page, then passed a hand over his face. He lingered, unable to meet her eyes, his hand over his mouth.

When he finally looked up at her, she was staring at him, silently pleading with him to understand.

"So… you didn't —"

She shook her head._  
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"But you _could have_."

She nodded, wide-eyed, appalled. She tried not to be angry with him specifically.

She took a deep breath, trying to keep in mind what _Married Love_ had said about men simply not knowing.

Of course he had been taught nothing about a woman's pleasure. But he was so perceptive elsewhere, so sensitive to detail that she'd thought he might know this too.

He felt terrible. He truly hadn't known, and he very badly wanted to learn.

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**a/n: how you doing? i love your reviews! i want your thoughts and feeeels. MWAH**

thank you for the everything! lurve! and thanks kouw for beta magic!


	81. Chapter 81

**nsfw, tralalala... Read 77 first, etc. Xoxo**

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He felt terrible. He truly hadn't known, and he very badly wanted to learn.

"Mrs Hughes, I — I'm so sorry. I didn't know. I want — I want to make you happy."

Then came perhaps the boldest thing Elsie Hughes — or Elsie Carson — had ever said.

"Do you want me to show you how?"

He nodded, dumbfounded.

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That is how she found herself in bed again, both of them slightly tipsy. She was sitting against their headboard, her legs spread wide, showing herself to him. He stared, fascinated, learning.

"So. Everything is quite sensitive, my love. And these are the outer lips," which she parted, "and these are the inner lips." She took a deep breath and giggled slightly. "And this at the top, this is the — the clitoris. It's the most sensitive part. It's where the pl- the pleasure comes from, like your — ahhh"

Her voice had turned breathless at the end of that sentence. He gazed at her. His breath caught as she moaned. She was so powerful. So open, so clear about what she needed. It was a beautiful sight to behold and a precious gift she was giving him.

She opened her eyes and looked at him. Then she took his hand and placed it on herself. With careful fingers he began to stroke her. She moaned deeply and arched into his touch.

She stilled his hand against her for a moment as she slid down among the pillows. She beckoned him to her and he propped himself up on one elbow.

"Can I touch you —"

"Yes, yes _please _—"

And he did. He slid his fingers over her inner lips, her clitoris, repeating the words in his mind to remember them.

The first time he slid a finger inside her, she gasped. He stopped, sick with worry. "Did I hurt you?"

"What? No! No. I'll tell you if you do, but this is — incredible. Please don't stop, please please yes —"

He slid those strong and gentle fingers against her, savoring and remembering every gasp, every moan, every shudder as he pleasured his woman for the first time.

She writhed under his touch and he sought out the places that seemed to drive her mad.

He kept touching her and soon it all seemed to be escalating. She knew this feeling well, but he had never witnessed it before, and he was glad of her exclamations —

"Oh god yes, yes, I'm going to — oh god, oh Mr Ca — YES yes yes —"

She was screaming softly. She clutched his arm and twisted the sheets with her other hand, her thighs open for him. She arched and stretched and tensed against him, crying out, clenching around him in ecstasy.

Coming down from it, she caught his hand between her thighs, turning to him and fiercely wrapping her arms around him.

It was incredible. He'd never seen a woman come undone before.

He was terribly aroused, and he wondered what he should do.

To his surprise, she was not sleepy but energetic.

She wanted him. He looked at her in confusion. "But — it's so late. And you've already —"

She replied breathlessly, joyfully.

"Oh, yes. Well, sometimes a woman can get there more often."

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**a/n ho hum, charlie learns to please elsie. please let me know what you thought about it! MWAH**


	82. Chapter 82

**nsfw.**

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"Oh, yes. Well, sometimes a woman can get there more often."

He looked at her in in astonishment. Wondering how she'd learned that. But now was not the time to ask how she knew such a thing.

He was still cupping her sex, his hand trapped between her thighs. When he slipped a finger in between her lips, she gasped and arched against his touch.

Everything was so new.

He loved her sounds. Her intoxicating scent. The slide of his fingertips against the intricacies of her sex.

"Yes — Oh my yes please, yes —"

He looked at her seriously, unsure whether she was giving him permission or asking for more of the same.

"What do you need, love? I don't know what to —"

She opened her legs, freeing his hand. He couldn't resist touching her more. It's not that he forgot his own arousal, no. But touching her so intimately was a great pleasure in itself.

"Ahhh — softer, please? — erm, lighter." At his worried look, she continued, a bit breathlessly. "You didn't hurt me. It was just a little bit — too much, after..."

He nodded. He didn't really understand, but he wanted to spare her the embarrassment of explaining.

She reached for him and tugged him impatiently down to her for a kiss. And _what_ a kiss. Tongues meeting, unafraid, seeking dominance. Giving and taking.

_God_, her hand running over his chest as they kissed. Light touches on his shoulders, his collarbone. Her fingers trailing across his nipple made him gasp in surprise and pleasure. Liking his response, she did it again and again.

She turned on her back and gently pulled him with her. He landed between her thighs.

She encouraged him, rolling her hips up to meet him.

His tip rested heavy against her. Her slight movement spurred him on and he pushed into her with one long stroke.

She cried out her pleasure at his thickness, his hardness. She felt stretched, filled, and it was all glorious, because she had been so very ready.

He was beginning to understand that none of this was hurting her; that she was _enjoying_ it.

They began a steady, slow rhythm punctuated by their vocalizations — timid at first, but growing bolder with time and the realization that they no longer shared walls with anyone.

They sped up and she matched him thrust for thrust , stroking herself at the same time. When he saw what she was doing, he almost came undone right then. But he held on, just barely, until she was arching and moaning and she cried out and then he could actually _feel_ what was happening inside her.

Her sex tightening and releasing, pushing and pulling at him — and he could not hold back anymore. With a guttural moan he started to pound into her.

Her eyes flew wide open — it was surprising, shocking; it was _almost_ too much — and she cried out with each thrust. He worried again about hurting her but suddenly she was not only crying out but _speaking, __good god —_ telling him yes, commanding him not to stop.

She was urging him on; after the initial shock it felt so _good_ and she couldn't curb her wanton words, didn't want to keep quiet anymore. His _hardness_, so insistent, so rough now — and she loved it. _Loved _it — she'd never imagined this in her fantasies — but _god, _it was so _good _with him slamming into her. His thrusts and her fingers pushed her over the edge.

Her pleasure was the final piece of the puzzle. His shame fled before the knowledge that she _wanted_ him. He roared his release and then they fell side by side, kissing, catching their breath and then, finally, falling asleep together.

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**a/n: how you doing, darling? please do drop me a line. xoxo**

All the thanks to kouw for telling me to go to sleep when I was writing the crappeh things.


	83. Chapter 83

It was too quiet. Birds chirping. Somewhere, the tiny clink of a single teacup on a saucer.

A soft mattress. Waking up naked for the first time in — _ever_.

He opened his eyes.

She was gone, but he could smell her. The scent of coconut, and — and _sex._

— Good god — her mouth, her body, her sex squeezing him, her legs around him, her _voice_ and those bold wanton words —

_Such thoughts in broad daylight. Not that it's stopped you thinking like that before, Charlie._

He found his dressing gown and made his way to their kitchen.

Sunlight caught in the steam from her teacup. Her braided hair.

She looked up at him from her novel — she'd finished _Dracula_ and found some other horrifying tale — and smiled.

His heart skipped a beat.

He stood staring at his wife, wanting to rush to her, gather her in his arms, all soft and warm in her dressing gown. Looking more closely, he realized she had nothing on underneath. He tried to steady his breath.

She held out her hand to him and he joined her at the table, his chair right next to hers.

She offered him a sip of tea from her cup and he took it after only a moment's hesitation.

She watched his lips as he sipped, his Adam's apple as he swallowed.

"You got up early," he said softly.

"I didn't want to wake you."

_How is she so calm?_

"Did you sleep well, Mrs Hughes?"

"I did, love. I wonder…"

A pause. He waited.

"What if we were to call one another by our Christian names? We _are_ married, after all, and now, after — erm —"

She blushed. He was a little flustered too, and to save them both from trying to articulate it, he hurried to answer her.

"I think it will take some getting used to, but I will try, erm. Elsie."

Her eyes closed as his voice caressed her own most private name.

"Please… say it again," she breathed.

"Elsie?"

"Thank you, Charlie."

His eyebrows flew up.

She opened her eyes and grinned at him, one eyebrow raised. "Too informal, Mr Carson?"

"No, it seems about right, my Elsie, for how you like to torment me."

And at that he leaned in and stole a kiss, slow and sweet.

She kissed him back, reaching up to touch his stubble.

His one hand rested at the back of her head, his fingers slipping into her hair. The other trailed gentle fingertips over her ear and down the side of her neck. So slowly she thought she could burst, he teased open her dressing gown and slid his hand inside, cupping and caressing her naked breast.

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**a/n: how you doin? drop me a line, please; i looove your reviews! xoxo**

many thanks to kouw for everything!


	84. Chapter 84

nsfw, yadda yadda

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_His one hand rested at the back of her head, his fingers slipping into her hair. The other trailed gentle fingertips over her ear and down the side of her neck. So slowly she thought she could burst, he teased open her dressing gown and slid his hand inside, cupping and caressing her naked breast._

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His hands, luxurious — as sensual as the slow movements of their lips and tongues.

She moaned and arched into his hand that was now rolling her nipple, kneading her breast.

Her other hand moved down his front. Slowly. Purposefully.

She reached his belt and pulled. Opening up his dressing down, she trailed lazy fingers along his thighs.

They kissed and pushed and caressed one another. Slowly becoming breathless, not touching the places that most longed for it.

She pressed his hand to her breast and broke their kiss to straddle him. She gasped in recognition, thrilling at the way his body pushed her thighs apart.

Her shaky inhalation as he slipped the robe from her shoulders. He sucked her nipple —

— god, the _taste_ of her, the intoxicating reality of her breast in his _mouth_, and the little moans she was making as she writhed against him —

He slowly became aware that he was restricting her movements. His arm tight around her waist held down her robe, which held back her elbows. He paused for an instant, thinking he should release her, but she changed his mind.

"Oh Charlie, so good…" Her moan trailed off into breathless gasps because she was deliciously immobilized as his mouth inflicted incredible pleasure on her.

He stood up, taking her with him. Her arms were around his shoulders, her legs tight around his hips. Her mouth on his, kissing him furiously.

In their room, he all but threw her on the bed, following as she moved backward with a grin, her legs open, ready for him.

"My God, Elsie, you're so beautiful." _Beautiful doesn't begin to describe her, Charlie._ But he had no other words for the way she responded to his touch. The fact that she _wanted_, even though everything they'd been taught said that women didn't — weren't _supposed_ to want.

"I'm all yours, my man."

Astonished and yet glad for her forwardness, he dropped his head to her knee, kissed his way up her inner thigh, and moved up her body to take her other nipple into his mouth.

Her breathless gasps as his fingers stroked her, finding her wet and ready.

She stilled his hand.

"And I want you to take me."

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**a/n hi! how's it going? xoxo**

thanks always to kow!


	85. Chapter 85

nsfw, ho hum...

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He watched, delighted at her responses to his touch.

Absently, he wrapped his other hand around his cock, moving slowly up and down.

The sight of him with one hand on her and one on himself was thrilling in an entirely new way.

He followed her eyes to his hand.

Mortified, he stopped entirely. She looked at him in frustration, then understanding. She leaned up on one elbow and reached for him, drawing him down to her. She kissed him deeply. Whispered against his mouth.

"Don't stop… I _liked_ it."

"What?" He was incredulous.

She bit her lip, nodding, wondering if it was _normal_. Suddenly she decided she didn't care whether or not it was normal.

She leaned back again, moaning happily as he began to move both hands again.

Knowing she was watching him made it very different for him. Uncomfortable, but exciting.

Her hands found their way to her breasts. She opened her eyes to find him staring at her hands. She smiled and kept at it.

He spread his fingers flat against her, lightly caressing, sliding. Sighing, moaning, gasping, she wrapped that lilting brogue around his name over and over.

She reached down to wrap her hand around him, trying to guide him. He was ready, and he pushed into her with a long stroke and a deep groan.

She took him in, held him there with her strong legs.

"Just — don't move, my love. For a moment."

He stayed still.

"Now, slowly, please."

And he pulled out, so slowly it was nearly unbearable for both of them. Almost all the way out, he paused.

He was lingering because he didn't know what to do next.

But their bodies surprised them.

The thick heavy tip of him, just inside, made her thrust up against him. Trembling, wanting to take him in further but frantically enjoying this.

Her _cunt_ — so tight around his sensitive head.

He hovered, moving in and out, shallow and intense. Soon she felt her climax approaching and she was actually _begging_ him —

"Oh my god yes, just like that, please don't stop, don't stop —"

So he teased her, moving shallow shallow shallow and then one deep stroke. Then shallow again, and the same. She was falling apart beneath him, around him, and she started to tremble. Gathering her courage, she touched herself, so lightly at first that it was almost unbearable.

The sight of her sent him over the edge and he spilled himself inside her with a great roar.

She held him close before he could pull out.

"Stay _here_, my man, stay in me. _Stay_ with me."

And he wrapped his arms around her, their torsos pressed together. He moved slowly within her and she managed to touch herself with them so close and it was so _good_ and before long she was clenching around him, whispering the screams of her ecstasy.

They fell together, kissing.

And with the midmorning sun shining through their windows, they lay in a tangle of arms and legs. Spent and happy, she fell asleep.

He lay awake for a moment.

Something about the way she'd lay spread open for him had looked familiar. Some image from long ago.

He fell asleep. Straight into a dream where her scent surrounded him and his mouth was _right there_ on her.

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a/n ermahgerd, you guize, downton day is upon us!1!1leventy!

thanks kouw for beta magic!


	86. Chapter 86

ermahgerd, happy downton day! two hours as of posting this! squeeeeee  
i intended to have this done before today, but the goobers still have a little ways to go...

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Slowly waking together. Her head on the pillow, her arm across his chest, his hand over hers.

Her leg over his.

She broke away for a full-body stretch. He followed suit.

"Hello, Charlie."

He chuckled. "Hello, Elsie."

She curled up to him again and he turned to her, wrapping her in his arms.

He wound the end of her braid around his finger and passed it over his lips, sighing happily. Then he pressed a kiss onto the top of her head.

"I love your hair like this."

"Mmmmmmm. Are you getting sentimental, Mr Carson?"

She'd meant it flirtatiously. When she felt his body stiffen, she bit her lip.

_Shite, now he's going to back away._

He was wounded, but only because of his own words.

"Mrs Hughes —ah, Elsie. I — I know I'm often a bit — difficult."

A smile in her voice. "Sometimes, yes."

"I need to apologize."

She waited. Her head was still tucked under his chin, her arm wrapped around his middle.

"When I was holding Miss Sybil and I told you not to get sentimental..."

"Yes," she sighed, "that was rather awful, my man."

"I know. Did you _know_ then?"

"DId I know what?"

"That I loved you."

"I had some idea, but I could never be sure."

"I didn't know yet at the time." He paused. "I'm sorry." He drew back to look at her, pained.

She looked up at him. With one hand she smoothed back his hair and drew him down for a kiss.

"You're forgiven." She smiled against his mouth and felt him relax. "Just don't do it again."

He chuckled. "I don't deserve you, my love."

"No, you don't."

At his horrified look, she grinned, wrinkling her nose, tightening her arm and leg around him. "I'm joking, Charlie. But thank you for your apology."

She shifted to bury her nose in his neck.

"I suppose we should get up."

"I suppose," he responded.

"It's probably teatime."

"Perhaps."

His yawn was contagious.

"Are you hungry?" Her sleepy brogue, close to his ear.

"No. Are you?"

"Not especially."

So they stayed in bed, sleeping the afternoon away.

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**a/n: such GOOBERS they are. ugh, i can't believe we get to see them on screen again in such a short tiiime. do drop me a line if you have a minute! pretty please and many thanks! **

** xoxoxo**


	87. Chapter 87

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When she woke, the sun was low in the summer sky. She had the impression that they were sleeping off a lifetime of overwork in one day.

He was snoring lightly, his chest to her back. She sighed and pulled his arm tighter around her, placing his warm hand over her breast.

For one surreal instant he sounded as if he were fully awake, telling someone to serve tea to Master George and Isis in the library.

_Oh, my lovely man, you're going to have to get used to retirement._

She smiled as he went back to snoring, then she turned in his arms and kissed his lips, waking him.

Half a second of utter confusion gave way to delight and he hummed contentedly as he held her even closer.

"Charlie…" He smiled at the sound of his name in her mouth. "Are you hungry?"

He hummed again and nodded against her head. They slowly got up, putting on the dressing gowns that had pooled on the floor.

In the kitchen they had a little meal of sandwiches and tea.

Afterward, he eyed the bottle of scotch.

"Mrs —Elsie."

She smiled, biting her lip at this adorable man and his gentle evolution. She didn't even _try_ to resist the urge to tease him.

"Yes, _Mr_ Charlie?"

A small smile from under prodigious eyebrows.

"You wicked thing. I was going to suggest scotch and chocolate, but perhaps you'd like to mock a poor old fool instead?"

"Let's have it in bed."

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**a/n: drop me a line, daaaarliiing... plz thx**


	88. Chapter 88

**NSFW.**. F'REAL

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_"You wicked thing. I was going to suggest scotch and chocolate, but perhaps you'd like to mock a poor old fool instead?"_

_"Let's have it in bed."_

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Of course a small piece of chocolate fell on her as they lay facing one another, propped up on pillows.

He boldly dipped his head to her breast, nipping and sucking the rapidly melting chocolate from her skin. She held his head there, guiding him to her nipple.

She took his hand and licked the melted sweet from his fingertips. His fingers pushing into her mouth, he groaned, sucking harder at her nipple. She involuntarily pushed her hips against him and he moved to her other breast.

His hand drifted down her back to cup and caress her bum, then came around to her sex.

He stroked her for a moment, then slid two fingers into her. Deep inside, he experimentally curved his fingers in a particular way.

Several things happened at once then.

She gripped his other hand tightly, yanking his fingers from her mouth as she gasped out loud, shuddering, arching against him.

With the other hand she clutched at his head, pressing it harder against her breast and inadvertently pulling his hair. He groaned at the unexpected pleasure of that slight pain and kept pressing and sliding against that spot inside her, marvelling at her frantic movements, her undulating body.

Her vocalizations escalated and she tried to touch herself, but his broad body over her meant that she could not reach. He caught her hand, pinning it against the bed over her head. He was _everywhere_ except her clitoris and she was going positively insane as his insistent touch drove her higher and higher.

Her whole body trembled and she pulled his hair deliberately now, trying to get him away so she could touch herself, but he only shifted to the other breast and continued moving inside her.

After several more minutes of the most exquisite torment, he released her hand, using his elbow to brace himself on the bed instead.

But her hand did not fly down to touch herself — it landed on his shoulder instead, digging her nails into his skin. He groaned out loud, his mouth still on her breast.

She was practically _singing_ in her pleasure, cooing, all in wonder; she'd never known this was possible, and the closest thing she'd had so far— the hairbrush handle — was _nothing_ like the long and nimble fingers of her husband moving within her.

The memory of those agonizing moments of concealment only pushed her higher now.

He was pulsing against her and he was _not stopping_ and she didn't even feel like touching herself at this point. She came undone slowly, loudly_, _intensely.

It went on and on with trembling and clutching and keening and she fell back on the pillow, her arm thrown over her forehead as her rapid breathing continued.

He smiled, gently curving his fingers inside her to make her clutch his shoulders and curl into him with a sharp inhalation. She swatted lightly at him, laughing helplessly, moaning with each teasing movement.

After a few moments, she said breathlessly, "Stop, Charlie — it's too much."

He did, holding still inside her until she touched his hand, silently telling him to pull out. He did so, slowly, and she shivered.

They lay still together for several minutes, her blissfully catching her breath. He was slightly nervous, wondering what to do next until she turned to him, claiming his mouth in a slow and demanding kiss.

He was stunned for half a second by her kiss, but then he was right there with her, his hands hurrying to grasp and pull her close, and she was reaching down to wrap gentle fingers around him. He jerked as she made contact, but she pulled him over her and guided him into her.

When he was buried inside her, he made a sound akin to the one he'd made at the seaside. She smiled to hear it, then pushed her hips down into the mattress to thrust back up against him. His eyes widened at her movements and she drew him down to her for another bruising kiss.

He started to move within her, slow but strong.

Remembering those frantic moments with the hairbrush again, she recalled the way she'd forced her inner muscles to relax. Figuring that she could also make them contract, she did so, pushing and pulling counter to his thrusts.

Her efforts were rewarded when he let out a groan and began to slam hard into her, her affirmations in his ears.

She did touch herself now, and just after he came undone — stiffening against her, roaring his climax — so did she.

They collapsed together, covering one another with kisses until they grew sleepy.

They lay with his head cradled between her breasts, his arm around her waist, and their legs tangled together, and fell asleep.

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a/n:** tell me your thoughts, your feels, your splosions. (I hope you had splosions.)**

**Spoiler alert: This is pretty much what happened in s5x01.*  
*That is a lie.**

thanks everyone for your reviews! thanks kouw for being the bestest beta evar. any typos in this chapter are all mine, tho.


	89. Chapter 89

happy birthday to meeee!

So, this thing just came flying out of my head. I hope you enjoy it!

**NSFW**.

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Glorious late-summer days. Picnics in their little garden, the occasional tea in the Servants' Hall with Mrs Patmore.

Sometimes they made love in the mornings, waking up to one another's touch.

Sometimes they woke hungry in the middle of the night and ate cheese and bread with wine at their kitchen table. Sometimes she rested her feet on his.

He watched her reflection as she brushed her hair. It was getting less difficult for her to handle the brush in his presence, but the memory remained. He saw her blush and smiled, came near to plant a kiss on her cheek and then left her in peace.

He wondered if she would teach him to braid it.

He grew bolder, coming up from behind to kiss her neck at the sink. Savoring her as she melted against him as far as her corset would allow.

One evening as she washed the dishes and he dried, he playfully wrapped the clean cloth around her eyes, tying it loosely. She laughed. Then he spun her around to him and held her tightly as she reached blindly for his head with a smile. He thrust his knee between her thighs, pinning her against the counter.

He lived for her sounds of surprised arousal. She pulled him to her for a scorching kiss.

Then he picked her up roughly and put her on the counter, standing between her thighs as her skirt hitched up. She pulled it up the rest of the way and went to remove the blindfold.

He caught her hands and she gasped, a little laugh. He only hesitated for a moment — worried about hurting her, disrespecting her, then deciding she would let him know if she liked it — before catching both of her hands in one of his and holding them at the small of her back.

"Yes…" she managed as his free hand ran up her thigh, his fingers finding the slit in her knickers.

His light touch on her sex. His firm hold on her hands. His body pushing her thighs apart.

When she started to tremble, he released her hands and she took the cloth from her eyes, dropping it on the floor.

He took his hand away.

"No…" she breathed. _Don't stop, come back_. She knew he would.

He was worried. "No? Oh my god, Elsie, I'm so sorry —"

A little laugh. A quick hard kiss. Breathlessly, "I meant no, don't _stop_, my man."

Relief. His forehead against hers for an instant. Her swift intake of breath as his fingers found their way back to her wet heat.

"I want you. Right now." She punctuated her words by undoing his trousers.

He made to help her off the counter, but she stopped his hands at her waist.

"No, I want you _here_."

His eyes wide. His mouth open. He helped her with the trousers and she guided him and he pushed into her.

Guttural moans. The slow in and out, thick hardness filling her — slick tight heat around him —

The sight of her hand on herself was unspeakably erotic. Tonight her hand was hidden. Urgent, invisible under her knickers. He imagined what her fingers were doing.

_Sometime I must ask her how she learned to do that_. A mad thought. He shook his head inwardly. Secretly he hoped they could talk about it someday.

Thrusting together, faster and faster. Her legs around his hips, her arms around his shoulders, his mouth at her neck.

Her moans, breathless, higher and higher. Then tightness, her inner muscles clenching and releasing around him, her cries filling the kitchen, and he lost himself in a tangle of affirmations and profanity, spilling his seed inside her.

He was mortified at his shocking words. He was aware of having growled something along the lines of _oh god woman oh fuck yes_.

* * *

.

**a/n: so, how's it going? drop me a line, please, bebe. i rabidly check my emails for reviews because i love to hear from you!**

thanks as always to kouw! but all the typos here are my fault, not hers.


	90. Chapter 90

still NSFW. still happy birthday to meeeee... :D

oh charlie, your big mouth...

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* * *

He was mortified at his shocking words. He was aware of having growled something along the lines of_ oh god woman oh fuck yes._

With one hand braced against the counter, he clapped the other over his mouth. He was horrified at himself even as he was spilling inside her, thrusting madly two, three more times.

She whipped her head up to stare at him, breathing hard, right in the middle of her climax and those _words _— her mouth was open, her eyes wide, blinking once, twice — he said those _words _and it was appalling, it was incredible, it was intimate and strange and she didn't know what to think_._

She looked shocked… and something else. He could barely meet her eyes.

_Does she actually look _— _amused?_

It wasn't amusement, exactly. She _was_ shocked. A little nervous, which translated into a hint of a smile that he read as amusement. She was — _intrigued._

"Mr Ca — Charlie —" Coming down, she was still breathless, but she needed to speak, somehow — put words to this, because _those_ words were so obscene. _Obscene and _— she could barely think it; it was so shocking — _exciting._

"My god, I'm so sorry," he groaned into his hand.

He tried to pull out, pull away from her, hide his face.

With a short moan, she shook her head. _No no no, do not run away, not now._

Reflexively, she tightened her legs around him, roughly pulling him close. The resulting movement inside her made her gasp, close her eyes, and clutch at his arm.

By now he'd learned to recognize her pleasure. Normally he delighted in her sounds, her uncontrolled movements.

Irrational in his shame, he had the misguided impression that his filthy words had made his body repulsive to her, transforming her pleasure into suffering.

His hand left his mouth and landed on her hip, trying to push off.

"Wha — let me _go_ — I'm so sorry —"

She loosened her grip on his arm, but held on with her legs. "No — please stay. Don't — don't pull —"

She bit her lip, sighed, cursed the difficulty of talking about it. Taking a deep breath, she managed: "I want you to stay where you are. _Please_."

* * *

.

a/n: i want to know your thoughts and feeeeels. xoxo


	91. Chapter 91

still NSFW...

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* * *

Her pleading tone confused him and he stopped trying to pull away.

He was still inside her, his seed slowly dribbling out into her knickers.

He couldn't have known she was rather enjoying the sensation. He felt disgusting for doing this to her — the normal, natural evidence of their passion seemed dirty to him in light of his words.

He frowned, unable to reconcile his embarrassment with the pressure of her heels against his bum and her gentle fingertips at his cheek.

— _oh god, her fingers smell like her, they smell like her_ —

Her eyes looked desperate as she begged him to stay.

He turned to kiss her palm, then inclined his face into it.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered.

A pause.

"For your words?"

He nodded, forcing himself to meet her eyes.

She was giving him that _look_ that made him melt, her gentle _don't be daft_ look.

"Come here, my man." And she pulled at him, kissed him tenderly.

His heart skipped a beat. They kissed for a moment, then he hugged her close and kissed the top of her head.

She shifted, wanting to get down.

He pulled out — _slowly_; she had taught him that — and then rushed to help her to the floor. He did up his trousers and she shook out her skirt.

He wanted to help her, to clean his mess from her, but he had nothing. He started to leave for the bathroom —

"Where are you going, love?" Her _voice_ — so soft as she reached for his hand.

"A cloth for you —"

"Och, my man. Don't trouble yourself with it just now."

"Hmmm." He sounded uncertain, but let her take both his hands in hers.

She made a decision about how to proceed.

Then she wrapped her arms around his middle. "I love you, you know."

"I — I love you too."

"And you know I'm yours. Forever." She backed away to look up at him, her eyes wide, eyebrows raised. She was serious, but she still had to bite back the hint of a smile.

He relaxed a little more, nodding.

Then she spoke softly. "Well... I think I'll go have a hot bath."

He nodded, ready to let her go, to wait his turn. He started to turn away.

"We have a large tub."

He whipped his head back, looking at her wide-eyed. Confusion on his face.

_Darling man, you don't presume anything, do you? Poor dear._

"You can come with me."

"I — Elsie, I —"

"Don't you want to?"

He admonished himself: _Close your mouth, old man. _He forced himself to speak.

"I — yes. I do."

She bit her lip and gathered her courage, then smiled fully, wrinkling her nose, her eyes sparkling.

She was a patient person as a rule, but she could hardly wait to see how he would react to her next barb.

"Good. Then we can talk all about your filthy mouth."

* * *

.

**the nippy sweetie strikes again! please let me know all about your thoughts and feels. i looooove your reviews! thaaank youoou! xoxoox**


	92. Chapter 92

probably nsfw as usual

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* * *

She bit her lip and gathered her courage, then smiled fully, wrinkling her nose, her eyes sparkling.

"Good. Then we can talk all about your filthy mouth."

His jaw dropped.

A mischievous smile as she reached up, drew her fingertips over his cheek, brushed her thumb over his lower lip. He tried to capture her thumb in his mouth but she was gone.

The tub was enormous. _I don't know how Mr Branson managed it but I will have to thank him_ — and she blushed, shaking her head at herself. She could _never. _That conversation would be excruciating.

He still stood in the kitchen, trying to reconcile that infectious smile with her strange words.

"Mr Carson? Are you coming?"

"Er — yes."

And he turned, went to their bedroom.

He wondered how to go about — well — _this._ A bath. With _her_.

He decided to take off his clothing and put on his dressing gown.

Barefoot and self-conscious, he stood in the bathroom doorway. She was facing away from him, naked except for her shift.

She bent over to turn off the faucet. The fabric went taut around her hips and her round bottom and he sucked in air through his teeth.

She heard him, but let him wait a moment longer.

Her hand reached up to rest on the nape of her neck, then her fingers trailed slowly down to her collarbone. She thought of those words. She thought of the previously forbidden things that their married state allowed them.

He was captivated.

She turned then, finding him helpless in the doorway. Looking guilty, even.

She wanted to repeat his dirty words.

First she had to assuage his fears.

He stared at her nipples through the thin fabric, then looked at the floor.

"Hello, you." A smile in her voice.

She held her hand out to him and he came to her.

His heart pounded.

Her beckoning look. Her strong hands as they — _so slowly_ — untied his belt and unwrapped his body.

_Oh my man, you don't know how beautiful you are._

She pushed the robe off his shoulders and he let it fall to the floor.

"Words can be so powerful, don't you think?" she began softly. She watched her hands caressing his shoulders, his chest. His breath caught whenever her light touch glanced across his nipples. Her eyes flicked upward. His eyes were closed and he looked torn between agony and bliss.

_How delicious he is like this_.

Still, she didn't wish to extend his suffering much longer.

She brought her hands up to either side of his face and looked at him until he opened his eyes. Her face showed arousal combined with nerves and tenderness, but it was unreadable to him when his anxiety forced him to focus inward.

He tried to speak.

"I — I suppose. Of course." He swallowed. "Of course they are." He spoke quietly, his almost calm tone belying his rapidly beating heart. Her gentle fingertips could feel the pulse in his neck.

She backed away from him and pulled the shift over her head, letting it fall onto his dressing gown.

* * *

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**a/n your reviews give my typing fingers life! thank you, and please drop me a line about this one; I'd love to know what you think. MWAH**


	93. Chapter 93

tralala nsfw.

Bathtime...

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* * *

She looked stunning.

Flushed from the heat. Biting her lip.

Tenderness and desire in her eyes as she settled in and beckoned him to join her.

She had left her hair pinned to keep it out of the water.

The steam had already caused a few tendrils to curl against her neck.

She leaned her head back and watched him.

He carefully stepped in, turning to sit across from her.

"Won't you come sit here? With me?"

"But — I would crush you."

"You won't. I'm made of stern stuff."

Her little smile, her loving hands reaching for him.

He managed it, half-reclining, relaxing into her.

His delicious weight. His broad body between her legs.

Her one arm lay across his chest. Her other hand rested on his head, holding him gently against her breast.

Turning his head, he could hear her heartbeat.

She touched his face, bending to kiss the top of his head.

Blindly, she felt his furrowed brow. Her gentle fingers wanted to smooth it out.

"You're worried."

He tensed, then nodded slightly.

"About your words?" she asked him gently.

He nodded again.

She took a deep breath, held it for a moment. _Be brave, Els. You can do this._

"About your filthy mouth."

_The smile in her voice. _He hesitated. _What is she doing to me?_

She let her hand drift over him, caressing his shoulders.

She spoke low in his ear.

"Such indecency, Mr Carson. And coming from _you,_ no less."

Under her teasing tone he could hear her thudding heart. It was both overwhelming and oddly reassuring.

She was running her hand over his chest, stroking his shoulder, lingering on his nipples.

She hadn't known quite how to have this conversation. But the heat, his body so intimately close to her, and her determination made her bold.

"From the _butler_."

He groaned a response.

"And right during —" she faltered. "Right while I was… erm. And so were you."

He made a strangled sound, relishing her touch and his inability to move. Physically he could have pushed away, of course, got up and left. But she had him so wondrously surrounded. She draped one leg around his middle and he grasped her ankle.

"Do you know what you said?"

Adrenaline rushed through him. He shook his head. He'd been overcome, and he had only a vague recollection of the profanities pouring from his mouth.

"You said a fair few things..."

He shuddered.

Her heart pounding against his ear, she whispered it. She was exhilarated as the words left her mouth, irretrievably flying out into the open. The risk was glorious.

"You said you wanted to… to _fuck_ me."

He gasped. He was suddenly, dizzyingly hard.

Her voice was so soft, so intimate in his ear.

She grew a bit bolder.

"You want to _fuck_ me, Charlie, is that it?"

* * *

**a/n: drop me a line, bbe. thx kouw xoxo**


	94. Chapter 94

nsfw. thank you kouw; you are endlessly fabulous.

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* * *

"You said you wanted to… to _fuck_ me."

He gasped. He was suddenly, dizzyingly hard.

She grew a bit bolder. Her voice was silk, caressing his ear.

"You want to _fuck_ me, Charlie, is that it?"

The water splashed violently as he jerked upward and away, twisting to stare at her. Searching her eyes for any hint of — mockery? Anger? Disgust?

To her, his reaction was very sudden.

For him it had been building up since he'd first let loose with those profanities. He had to break out of whatever game she was playing and know where they stood.

Startled, she stared back at him. His face was astonishingly open, but she misread his confusion as rejection.

"Elsie…" His voice was barely a whisper. "What are you _doing_?"

"Ch- Charles…" Her voice wavered. Her eyes started to fill with tears.

He cursed himself.

"Oh no, no, my love, don't — don't cry, please. I love you, don't —"

She looked down, covering her mouth. Her breath caught in her throat as her tears fell.

"Elsie —oh god — I'm so sorry. I — that was — that was _incredible_."

She looked up. "What?"

He rested an elbow on the tub and tilted her chin up, forcing her to look at him.

"Mrs Hu—" He stopped, smiling a little, shaking his head at himself. "It's an old habit, darling. _Elsie_."

She bit her lip. She looked terribly alluring to him — he desperately wanted to kiss her but he doubted she would want that just now.

"Charles."

He grinned then. "It's alright if you call me Charlie."

A watery smile. "Charlie, then."

"Elsie. I thought you were disgusted. I thought you were mocking me."

She shook her head. "Never, Charles. _Charlie_. I would never mock you." She took a deep breath. Her eyes flicked down to his erection, then back up.

He leaned his head toward her. Mischievous eyes, a half-smile, one raised eyebrow.

She laughed then, shakily. "Well, I might tease you on occasion."

He smiled, wiping her tears away and leaning in to kiss her pretty mouth.

She gave a little moan as he tugged gently at her lip.

Leaning his forehead against hers, he whispered. "I would love to hear you say those things again."

She shuddered, still a little off-kilter but feeling bolder. She took a deep breath.

"What things, Charlie?" The smile was back in her voice.

"You _sorceress_, you know what I mean — "

And she smiled, leaning back, pulling him back to her. She welcomed him as he lay with his head on her breast.

She wrapped herself around her big man, savoring his warm weight on her. Her leg around his middle, her arm across his chest. Her hand caressing his cheek — until he trapped a finger, sucking it into his mouth.

She gasped, then in breathless whisper, she said it. All at once, before she could lose her nerve.

"Charlie…. I want you to _fuck_ me."

_Her voice, her brogue _—

"Oh god _yes.._." His response pushed her further.

"I want you inside me. Your thick, hard —"

_Damn it, what's the right word? _She squeezed his shoulder and spoke softly into his ear.

"Say it, Charlie."

"Cock," he supplied with a shudder. His hand under water wrapped itself around it.

It was all both terrifying and erotic for her as well as him. She pressed on.

"Your _cock._ I want you to fill me with it."

She watched his hand move up and down.

"Do you want that too, Charlie?"

"Good god, woman, what you do to me —"

"Your cock deep inside me. In my… my what?"

He hesitated, not wanting to offend her.

"Say it, Charlie. What do you call it in your mind?"

"In your — in your c- c- your _cunt _—" He'd never stammered in his life, but there it was.

She was reeling. Arousal made her squeeze her legs around him.

She bent down so that her mouth was level with his ear.

"You wicked, wanton man."

* * *

.

a/n **how you doing, baybee? mwah**


	95. Chapter 95

bathtime continues...nsfw of course

.

* * *

"Say it, Charlie. What do you call it in your mind?"

"In your — in your c- c- your _cunt _—" He'd never stammered in his life, but there it was.

Arousal made her exhale rapidly and squeeze her legs around him.

She bent down so that her mouth was level with his ear.

"You wicked, wanton man."

He groaned, unable to speak.

Her hot breath. Her lips teeth tongue nibbling his ear.

She relished it — touching him in places she normally couldn't reach.

If she had really tried, she would have been able to touch herself.

But she wanted to watch _him_ fall apart.

He was doubly overcome — by her words themselves, and by the thought of her _mouth_ making those sounds. The rolled _r._ Her lips closing on an _m_. The curl of her tongue to form his name.

"I love it when you're inside me, Charlie. I _love_ it."

He groaned, his hand pumping.

"Do you want to know why?"

"Yes, yes —"

"Because you fill me so entirely."

"Oh my _god_, woman —"

"You thrust _in_ and _out_ and it feels so _f —"_ she took a breath. Adrenaline rushed through her at her own words — "so _fucking _good."

"Oh _Christ, _Elsie, your _mouth_ —"

He was breathing hard, his hand moving faster.

A crazy idea started to form in her mind.

"Or when you're inside me just a little bit —"

He was almost there.

"And you move back and forth — in and out —"

The idea started to take shape. She wondered if she could do it.

"God, yes —" He was breathless.

"And then you're deep inside me —"

"F- fuck _me_, yes, yes —" His profanities spurred her on.

"And I can't help but make noises —"

She wondered how he would react if she did it. She hoped he wouldn't think she wanted to silence him. _Quite the contrary, my lovely man._

" — because you're so hard, so big, moving in and out of me —"

His whole body tensed and his hand started to move erratically.

" —and when you're inside me I never want you to leave —"

Just as he started to groan his climax, she clapped her hand over his mouth.

His groan turned into a roar and he bit down on her palm.

It hurt, but not much. She curled around his body, releasing his mouth, holding on tight with her legs and fiercely whispering words of love and desire.

He had come onto his own belly. She reached for a flannel and cleaned it from his body. His hand covered hers.

"Oh my _god_, Elsie — I never knew —"

To his further astonishment, she _giggled_.

"Neither did I, my man. Are you alright?" She was happy even as she trembled with arousal and nerves.

"God, yes — that was — you're —"

He needed to see her, to look into her eyes.

He sat up, suddenly sleepy.

"Elsie." Her eyes were intoxicating.

"Hello, my lovely man."

He leaned in and kissed her mouth. Her body arched up to meet him.

Supporting himself on the edge of the tub with one hand, he cupped her breast with the other.

Then his hand started to drift downward.

"Bed," she gasped as his fingers slid between her lips, opening her up.

* * *

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**a/n how's it going, darling?  
**thank you kouw!


	96. Chapter 96

He leaned in and kissed her mouth. Her body arched up to meet him.

Supporting himself on the edge of the tub with one hand, he cupped her breast with the other.

Then his hand started to drift downward.

"Bed," she gasped as his fingers slid between her lips, opening her up.

* * *

He kissed her deeply again, his touch light on her sex.

She moaned into their kiss, then gently pushed him away.

She watched him make quick work of drying himself and then she let him help her out of the tub.

When she reached for her towel, he stopped her hand with a grin. He held her wrist and kissed each of her fingertips before taking the towel himself and beginning to dry her. He followed the towel with kisses — across her collarbone, down her breast, briefly taking her nipple into his mouth.

She had to hold onto him to keep her balance.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, burying his nose in her hair, lavishing kisses on her neck. He was rewarded with moans and whimpers, then she pushed him away and took his hand, letting her towel fall to the floor.

He stopped them, hanging her towel up for her. The caring gesture nearly brought tears to her eyes.

Then he grasped her hand again and all but dragged her off to their room.

* * *

**just a little tease... sorry! i hope to be able to post more tonight!**


	97. Chapter 97

He stopped them, hanging her towel up for her. The caring gesture nearly brought tears to her eyes.

Then he grasped her hand again and all but dragged her off to their room.

* * *

"Take your hair down." His _tone_, soft but commanding.

Her eyes widened.

"My, my, Mr Carson," she said breathlessly. "You're very authoritative."

But she did it, her hair falling in thick and shining waves halfway down her naked back. Standing behind her, he ran his hands over her body, slowing her progress somewhat when he roughly pulled her against him, both hands cupped and kneaded her breasts. Her glorious hair — he ran his fingers through it, brought handfuls to his face and inhaled the coconut scent of it.

A crazy idea occurred to him.

He was fairly certain she would like it, so he reached for his necktie on the dresser. He bound it around her eyes.

"Oh god, _yes _— Charlie, this is — _yes._"

"Look who can't form sentences now." A smile in his voice, low and quiet. His hot breath at her ear.

He kissed her hand and pulled her to their bed.

* * *

He lay on his side, supported on one elbow, head leaning on his hand.

She lay on her back next to him. Her hands flung over her head, she writhed under his touch.

He ran his hand along the full length of her body, then pulled her head to him. He kissed her, then retreated, leaving her reaching for him.

She arched up as he rolled her nipple. Full-throated moans as he drew it into his mouth and sucked deeply. Cold when he released her.

His hand landed at her hip and pushed. She turned onto her side.

* * *

Darkness and his touch. His hot mouth at her shoulder, his hands trailing over her skin..

She reached to touch herself and he caught her hand, brought it to his mouth, sucked at her fingers.

He pushed her hip again and she rolled onto her front, head turned to the side, eyes closed behind the black silk.

His large hands, hot against her skin, stroking up her back, landing in her hair. Rubbing her neck. Chills along her whole body.

He could easily have reached her sex, being so much taller.

But he wanted to draw it out. Make her beg.

So his hands roamed.

Her breath trembled. She was enjoying him being in charge.


	98. Chapter 98

His hands roamed.

Her trembling breath. She enjoyed him being in charge.

* * *

His touch was incredibly gentle. Those huge hands, caressing the contours of her body.

He tormented her. His hand on the skin of her inner thighs, her bum, but never her sex. She was wet, her heat radiating, and her _scent_ — how he loved her scent — was _everywhere_.

He wanted to tell her she was intoxicating. That he would like to wake and sleep in that scent.

_Someday_.

He hoped his confession wouldn't embarrass her.

She tried to arch into him, her legs spreading of their own accord.

He moved to kneel in between.

His hand, stroking her inner thigh. But he didn't touch her yet.

"Please, Charlie," she begged him.

"Please what?"

"Mmmmmm."

"You like this?" His voice, low and soft in her ear.

He leaned over her. Rested on his elbows. His hands slid under her and cupped her breasts.

* * *

Inescapable sensation as her own weight pressed her into his hands.

Every time he pinched her nipples, she whimpered more, her body curving inward. She tried to remember how to breathe.

His voice in her ear. His lips at her neck. His big body between her legs.

* * *

_Wide open. Exposed._

She _loved_ it.

His hands on her thighs, inching closer to her sex.

Shaking, she arched back to meet his hand.

Contact. Sliding, pressing.

Trembling changed to tense stillness, undulation, arching.

Her quiet, desperate moans turned loud, indulgent.

A light, playful smack on her bum. Her small scream. Instantly she began trembling.

"Do that again."

His relief, his soft laugh.

He did. The back of his hand against her bum as his fingers pushed and curled deep inside her.

She rose slightly, her thighs pushing inward against his. Enjoying the resistance.

He broke contact to reach around. Pulled her up on all fours, pressed her tightly against him.

She slipped off her blindfold and looked down.

His forearms held her in place. His fingers, pushing in, pulling out. The slow rhythm that she could actually _see_. His other hand sliding over her, gently circling her... _clitoris_. She actually mouthed the word. Smiled to herself.

She couldn't move.

His insistent touch, her erratic breathing.

The sight of his hands on her sex, invisible to him.

The heat and solidity of him over her, around her, in her.

She came, long and slow and intense.

He stilled his hands on her and they fell together, her back to his chest, his fingers still inside her.

Both were exhausted. Spent. Happy.

He pulled out, slowly. Then he sucked his fingers.

Realizing what he was doing, she gasped. Mortified.

* * *

**a/n** how you doing?

thank you kouw for beta magic!


	99. Chapter 99

**it's pretty much nsfw all the time.**

they've been sexing for 23 chapters. sure, they've been sleeping and going outside and eating and having tea and visiting the abbey and going to the village and everything too; that's just all offscreen.

good god, this is the same day as the kitchen countertop sex four thousand chapters ago. our beloved goobers are all worn out!

. . .

* * *

He stilled his hands on her and they fell together, her back to his chest, his fingers still inside her.

Both were exhausted. Spent. Happy.

He pulled out and sucked his fingers.

Realizing what he was doing, she gasped. Mortified.

* * *

Her heart pounding, she lay against him. Motionless. Tense.

It was a shock to her system.

The countertop. His unguarded words, his shame.

Wrapping herself around him in the hot water, pushing him. Profanity laced with tenderness.

Then maddening blind pleasure. The sight of his hands. The long hot rush and clench and ecstasy of her orgasm.

But now _this_.

Inexplicably, tears came to her eyes.

It was not sadness, of course. Not hurt, either.

Confusion. Embarrassment. She was flustered beyond belief.

* * *

He rose slightly on one elbow, smiling at the sound of her gasp.

His smile fell away instantly.

Her hands hid her face. He was crushed to see her pain.

"Mrs Hu — _Elsie,_ what's wrong?"

"Charlie, what — oh my god, you've — you've —" Her voice trembled.

It was one thing to enjoy her scent. She enjoyed it herself, if she were honest.

_But — he — what?_

Words tumbled out. Other words were stuck in their throats. Between their teeth.

"I've embarrassed you — "

"No, it's —"

"I didn't mean —"

He pinched the bridge of his nose, suddenly weary.

He'd done it impulsively, wanting to taste her.

He'd never imagined it would bother her. She'd been so wonderfully bold with him.

Ever since that first night when she'd shown herself to him, that image had haunted his dreams.

Of course now he understood exactly what that man was doing with his face right there.

_What was that picture called again?_

Something about _joies d'hiver. _

_Le dessert, _it was.

_Good god. It __would__ be French, wouldn't it._

He wondered if he could ever please her that way. If she'd allow it.

He pulled the covers over them, coming back to wrap himself around her again. He pressed a kiss to her shoulder and she inhaled quickly.

"I love you."

"I love you too, my man."

"I'm sorry I embarrassed you.'

"It's — I don't know, I just never… thought of it…" Her soft voice, higher than usual. She felt both anxious and drained.

"Hmmm." His voice, deep and soothing. He sounded tired.

She couldn't have known that his hum also expressed his appreciation of her taste, her scent.

She didn't know what to say. His breathing grew deep and steady. His grip around her waist relaxed, his arm wonderfully heavy over her.

She was relieved at not having to speak of it any more.

Physically and emotionally exhausted, she drifted off.

* * *

...

**a/n hello there. how are you doing, darling?**

**many thanks to kouw for beta fabulousness.**


	100. Chapter 100

Dreams of tasting her. His mouth on her heat. Burying his face in her scent. His tongue and lips sliding against that smooth skin.

He hoped she'd let him someday.

He woke up alone, his hand around his erection. He recalled how he'd embarrassed her.

_Fuck_.

* * *

He emerged from the bathroom, finding her in the kitchen with tea and toast.

His heart leapt at the sight of her. Loosely braided hair. Nightgown and dressing gown.

Her beautiful sleepy man. She took in his mussed hair, his gentle expression.

"Good morning, my Elsie." His marvelous voice caressed the words.

He rested his hand on her shoulder and kissed the top of her head.

"Good morning, my man." Her smile concealed her anxiety. Mostly.

He tilted her chin up and kissed her softly.

After only an instant of hesitation, she kissed him back, her hand reaching up to rest lightly on the back of his neck.

Three wonderful weeks of marriage, and now _this._

* * *

Days passed.

Things got a little better, of course: it wasn't as if they didn't still crave one another.

He tried to catalogue what she liked. He would replicate it with his mouth when they finally —

_If__, old man. If, not when._

* * *

A leisurely walk to the Abbey, her hand tucked into his elbow.

They took tea with Mrs Patmore in the Servants' Hall.

Easy conversation. They spoke of Daisy, of Anna. Of the new recipes and the changes upstairs.

Happier of their retirement than ever, they took their leave.

They walked the longer way home, enjoying the Yorkshire scenery. Both were rather lost in their thoughts.

His tongue curled behind his teeth, against the roof of his mouth. Invisible movement. Involuntary imitation of what he wanted to do.

He bit his tongue to still it when he realized.

He _had_ to ask her. _Soon_.

* * *

They walked.

"Mrs Hughes, I wonder…"

She looked up at him sharply, worry in her eyes that he misread as irritation.

He paused, puzzling out the reason for her expression, then caught it. "_Elsie."_

A bit shakily, she responded: "Charlie?"

He paused.

"Never mind."

He scolded himself.

_Coward._

* * *

**a/n** **give me your wrath, your tension, your happy feels and your not-happy feels!  
Thank you everyone! Thank you especially to my magical beta ****kouw!**


	101. Chapter 101

They walked slowly toward their home.

"Mrs Hughes, I wonder…"

She looked up at him sharply.

He paused, puzzling out the reason for her expression, then caught it. "Elsie."

A bit shakily, she responded: "Charlie?"

He paused.

"Never mind."

* * *

His odd behavior made her stop abruptly, her hand inadvertently pulling at his elbow, throwing him slightly off-balance.

She blinked, shaking her head almost imperceptibly. "What do you mean, 'never mind'?"

"I — nothing."

She grew more and more concerned.

"Something is wrong. Please, you can tell me —" and she reached to touch his face.

He drew back just slightly.

Rejected, she retreated. Her fingers, curling inward.

He saw her pain and felt like a cad. _Such thoughts about her _— but surely it wasn't such a crime to want to do _that_.

"Er, no. Nothing's _wrong_, exactly, just…" He trailed off.

She dropped her hand, tucked her chin and looked at him. Furrowed brow, big eyes.

It was an old look from their old ways. She resisted the urge to flee. Not that it was possible anymore. But anxiety brought irrational thoughts to her mind.

To his as well. He couldn't meet her eyes.

"Charlie, are you alright?" Her soft voice both calmed and excited him.

A small nod. He frowned, thinking. "There's something I want to ask you but I'm not sure how to say it."

Her expression softened. A little smile.

_Oh, is that all? Darling worried man. _

She wondered what he wanted to know.

They'd already shared their rambling tales over wine and cheese and bread in the middle of their nights.

_Most of them, that is._ She blushed, thinking of his pantry, of her hairbrush.

He saw her blush and wondered.

She pulled herself together.

"Well. You can always start, and then go back and explain if you need to." Her lilt, _god_, the loveliness of her voice. Her kindness. Her practicality.

"Yes, but — I think I'm just not … _ready_ to say it."

Adrenaline. Her heart pounding. She wasn't sure what he wanted to ask her, but clearly it weighed heavy on him.

* * *

...

**a/n: Thanks for reading! I'd love to know what your thinks and feeeeels are. Happy Downton Eve!  
**Thanks as always to my magical beta, kouw!


	102. Chapter 102

**multiple updates. started with chapter 101 today...**

**.**

**.**

* * *

She wasn't sure what he wanted to ask her, but clearly it weighed heavy on him.

* * *

"Well," she began shakily, "you just let me know when you're ready and I'll be here."

A pause.

_Say something already, old man._

"Thank you, Mrs Hughes." _Damn it. _"...Elsie."

He shook his head and started walking again. Her first few steps were a bit rushed as he pulled her with him.

After a few moments she squeezed his arm, smiling sweetly at him. He looked back, unaware of the thunder in his expression.

Her smile faded.

_Oh, how fine. Now you've scared her._

He put his hand over hers and they walked on in silence.

* * *

Dinner had been slightly awkward, although she'd reached to squeeze his hand when he'd looked particularly lost.

They were just finishing the washing up. He gathered his courage and wrapped his arms around her from behind as she wrung out the cloth and hung it to dry.

Relieved, she relaxed into him, tilting her head to one side and humming with pleasure as he nuzzled her neck.

"I'm sorry if I frightened you earlier." His deep rumble, soft in her ear.

She dried her hands and he hung up the towel, one arm still around her waist.

She turned in his arms and looked at him, taking in his worried expression.

"I can tell something is troubling you. I hope you'll let me help."

She trailed her fingertips over his cheek, her thumb over his bottom lip. He shuddered, kissed her palm, and suddenly drew her tightly into him. He cradled her head with his big hand and pressed a kiss to her hair.

Pressed against his chest, she inhaled him.

He smelled like _home. _Smiling, she closed her eyes.

They went to their bedroom, not bothering to bring a light.

Her hands rested on his chest as he gently pulled every pin from her hair.

She unbuttoned his shirt and slid her hands inside.

They undressed one another slowly.

He tried to push _those_ thoughts from his mind. _So very French_, he thought, half-grimacing. He managed to hold back a nervous bark of laughter.

Something was off again; she could tell. She led him to sit on the bed and cradled his face in her hands.

"Whatever you want to know, my man, you only have to ask."

He was confused for half a second, then embarrassed. He couldn't help the words tumbling out.

"It's not that kind of question, exactly."

"Oh?"

_God damn it_. He'd put his foot in it. He _did not_ want to talk about it, and especially not now when they were so close to some kind of normalcy.

* * *

...

**a/n: please do tell me all about your thinks and feels, darling. your reviews bring me joie. xoxoxo**

thanks as always to kouw for beta magic! MWAH


	103. Chapter 103

**multiple updates today! start with chapter 101.**

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.

* * *

Something was off again; she could tell. She led him to sit on the bed and cradled his face in her hands.

"Whatever you want to know, my man, you only have to ask."

He was confused for half a second, then embarrassed. He couldn't help the words tumbling out.

"It's not that kind of question, exactly."

"Oh?"

_God damn it_. He'd put his foot in it. He _did not_ want to talk about it, and especially not now when they were so close to some kind of normalcy.

* * *

He shook his head, effectively breaking contact.

Her hands fell to her lap.

He cursed himself. He felt a fool, sitting there in shorts and undershirt, half-erect, his hands tense on his knees.

She looked more vulnerable in her shift than she did naked.

"I wish you would tell me."

"I _will_, darling. I just — I just need time."

"You're starting to worry me."

He looked up sharply, searching her face as their eyes adjusted to the darkness. The moon shone just enough so that he could make out her expression.

"I'm sorry." He caressed her cheek, then slid his fingers into her hair. She sighed, melting into his touch.

He kept it up, massaging her scalp, and she leaned her head forward against his chest. He jerked slightly when she rested a hand on his thigh.

She looked up at him, then reached with her other hand, pulling him in for a slow kiss. She gave little moans as their mouths opened and their kiss grew more demanding.

She retreated long enough to pull her shift over her head. Letting it pool on the floor, she reached for his undershirt. He let her pull it off him, then followed her as she moved backward on the bed.

They slipped between the sheets together and worked together to rid him of his shorts.

* * *

**a/n: thank you for all the lovely reviews! i would love to hear your thinks and feels about this one. you are lovely!**

thanks always to kouw!


	104. Chapter 104

She drew back, but only long enough to pull her shift over her head. She let it pool on the floor, then reached for his undershirt. He let her pull it off him, then followed her as she moved backward on the bed.

They slipped between the sheets together and worked together to rid him of his shorts.

* * *

Her hand on his chest. His hand on her hip. Side by side, trading kisses.

Reverent touches. His hand running through her hair.

Not sure what he was even doing, he pulled her on top of him. He thought it might amuse her. He didn't dare think of other possibilities.

She went willingly. Straddling his hips, pressed lightly against his erection.

Her hands on either side of his head. Leaning down, kissing him deeply. His head off the pillow as he rose to meet her.

Her unbelievably soft skin as his hands ran from her hips up to cup her breasts. Her ragged breath, his thumbs glancing over her nipples.

His hand trailed down her back, making her shiver.

"Elsie —"

"Hmmmm."

"I want you."

She smiled brilliantly in the moonlight. Her eyebrows rose.

"Like this?"

He nodded, shocked at himself, fearing her judgment. Surely she would find him depraved, weak, unmanly. He waited.

She smiled, then bent down to kiss him again. Tenderly, passionately.

She whispered in his ear. "I've wanted to do this."

"Oh my _god,_ Elsie." His hips thrust involuntarily upward. Her gasp turned into a delighted moan.

She trailed one hand down his cheek, his neck, tracing his collarbone, grazing over his nipple and enjoying the hitch in his breath. Reaching down between them, she guided him and _took_ him.

Her breath, her voice trembled as she lowered herself onto him.

"My Elsie..." His words dissolved into a long guttural moan as she took him in entirely. She rested on him, taking a moment to get accustomed to him fully inside her.

Her _heat_. Tight around him, welcoming him. Her weight on him. It was like _nothing_ else_._

They lingered this way for a few moments. Then she rocked against him, arching her back as his thick hardness filled her.

Their height difference was accentuated by this position. With him so deep inside her, she could not reach to kiss him.

"Charlie," she breathed.

"Huh?" He opened his eyes to see her smile.

"I want you _closer. _Maybe put some pillows…?" She gestured. He curled up a bit to accommodate the pillows that she stacked under his shoulders and head. In moving that way, he thrust slightly deeper inside her and she yelped, halfway between pleasure and pain. Then she shuddered, curling forward, falling onto her hands. She kissed him hungrily. He thrust within her again, but she lifted off of him, shaking her head.

"Too much, my love."

"I'm sorry —" he began, but she covered his mouth with her hand. His eyes widened and she gave a little laugh. Then she released him, leaned forward to kiss him, and moved experimentally up and down.

_Oh yes, this position will do nicely_, she thought and laughed inwardly at her stoic reflections. Then he moved within her, just slightly — _oh my, but he learns fast_ — and she curled into him, her hot mouth on his chest. She ran her tongue over his nipple, causing him to push into her again.

Every movement had consequences, some of them surprising. She found she liked to lean forward on him; sitting up could be uncomfortable with his length.

Every thrust was met, every moan welcomed. Every touch savored. His hands on her hips, he pulled and pushed her. Up and down. Shaking her head rapidly, and with a strong grip, she moved his hands from her hips to her breasts, closing his fingers around her nipples.

Every breath was a shudder, a moan, a name. Profanities tumbled from his mouth and hers as their tempo increased.

She was getting close, but it wasn't enough. She brought one hand to her sex and dipped her fingers between her lips. Rising up, she wrapped her fingers around him and squeezed gently. His reactions spurred her on.

That silken skin against her fingertips. She trailed her fingers over him, then sank down again. Her fingers made slippery, she spread her wetness and stroked herself.

_Good god, the sight of her._

"Oh my, fuck, Elsie, what you _do _to me, woman, _fuck_ _me__!_" He was delirious, babbling, and he did not give a damn with this woman _riding_ him and _touching herself_, her back arched. She fell forward, moving slowly up and down, and she felt the familiar build as she approached her climax.

"I — I'm going to — Charlie —"

"Yes, Elsie, _do_ it, I want to see you _come for me_ —" He couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth but since that night in the bathtub he had become bold. "_Come for me" _— he must have read that somewhere too. "Coming," how perfect for them as they came home to each other after such a terribly long time.

He spared no more thought for the words in his mind because she was _right there_, surrounding him, on _top_ of him; this was never the way he'd imagined it but now he didn't want it to end. She was almost there, holding still now as she touched herself with him inside her.

He pushed into her and she gasped. He looked at her, questioning — and when she nodded, he did it again. She undulated, sitting up, moaning, her hand relentless on herself, and then she was coming undone, her voice in her ecstasy filling the room.

For a few seconds she lay flush against him, catching her breath. This made it easier for him when he rolled them over, glad when her legs wrapped around him, when her hands reached for him.

"Yes! Come to me, my man." And he did, thrusting once, twice. She whimpered when he paused, bucking her hips against him. He started to pulse steadily in and out.

"Harder," she begged.

And he gave it to her. Fast and strong. She came again, tight around him, her hand on her sex. When he had spilled inside her with a great roar, she locked her arms and legs around him and pulled him to lie on top of her.

_Just for a little while_, she thought. _Stay with me. _He did.

Then he slowly pulled out, fell beside her, and took her hand.

_Her scent_. He kissed her hand, holding it for too long, taking her fingertips into his mouth. He kissed and suckled each finger.

_This can't go on_. He was sure of that now.

* * *

**a/n: let me know what you think, pleeze. i love your reviews!**

thank you kouw for your beta magic!


	105. Chapter 105

_._

* * *

_Just for a little while_, she thought. _Stay with me. _ He did. Then he rolled them onto their sides and took her hand to kiss it.

_Her scent_. He kissed her hand, holding it for too long, taking her fingertips into his mouth. He kissed and suckled each finger.

_This can't go on_. He was sure of that now.

* * *

His mouth, hot and wet. _Almost like my _—

The word _cunt_ snagged in her brain.

Actually it was very different. His tongue swirling around her fingers, teasing the skin in between. Sucking at her skin. Nipping at her fingertips.

She pressed her fingers into his mouth, letting him worship her hand.

"Mmm, Charlie, that feels so _good_…" Her voice, delighted. Musical.

He hummed in response, his eyes closed.

His voice rumbled through her hand, wrist, forearm.

He ran her hand down his face and held it over his mouth.

* * *

He tried not to breathe in too obviously as he held her hand over his mouth.

He kissed her palm and closed her fingers around it, kissing them too.

_Let go, Charlie._ _You have to try. Ask her. Tomorrow._

* * *

She woke to the sound of birds chirping.

His arm heavy around her waist. Sun streaming through their window.

She turned to find him already blinking awake.

His stubble under the pads of her fingers, his kiss to her palm.

She remembered his mouth on her hand last night and blushed, laughing softly.

"Good morning," they both started to say.

_Chilly_. They put on pajamas, dressing gowns, slippers.

He put the water on; she made the toast. He fried eggs and tomatoes; she poured the tea.

Her hair, loose and over one shoulder, shone in the sun.

She looked up from her tea to find him staring at her. She blinked, smiled her response.

A little frown knitted her brow when he averted his eyes.

* * *

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**a/n: hi lovely! please let me know what your thinks and feels are! i love hearing from you! thank you for your reviews so far. MWAH.**

thanks always to the fabulous and brilliant **kouw!**


	106. Chapter 106

**multiple updates... start with 105 this time. **(or 101, if you didn't see anything yesterday. or just start over if you have some time on your hands, haha)**.**

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* * *

She looked up from her tea to find him staring at her. She blinked, smiled her response.

A little frown knitted her brow when he averted his eyes.

* * *

"Charlie?"

He took a deep breath, staring at his hand on the table. She winced but he couldn't see it.

She concealed her unease, but not terribly well. She wasn't sure what he was going to ask her, but his hesitation could mean many different things.

_Out with it, old man. _He took a deep breath.

"I was wondering…"

Her kind expression. Raised eyebrows. Patience.

"I've been wanting to ask you something."

"Yes. You can ask me anyth—"

"I wanted to know if I could, erm..."

She frowned in confusion. _What in God's name?_

"If I could, er, kiss you."

Now she was well and truly baffled. She scoffed.

"Why would you even ask that? I mean, it's very sweet, my man."

"Ah. No, my love, I mean, er… _kiss you_."

Another tiny shake of her head. "I'm not sure I follow. You can always kiss me. I love your kisses."

He wished for the earth to swallow him up.

_Talking about these things in the light of the bloody kitchen table. You dirty old goat._

It was utter torment, but he pressed on.

He looked miserable and she was mightily confused.

"Erm, it's rather a question of _where…_"

His eyes involuntarily flicked downward and she thought perhaps she understood.

"Oh my god."

She looked away, blushing furiously, biting her lip hard. She felt she could die on the spot from embarrassment.

"Dammit, I've embarrassed you. I'm so sorry, Elsie."

He reached for her hand and she jerked away. He could hardly breathe.

* * *

**a/n:** **pooor goooobers. darling readers, i would love to know what you think of this. drop me a line, dearests!**

and as always thanks to **kouw!**


	107. Chapter 107

**Chapter 105 is the first one of the day...**

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* * *

He reached for her hand and she jerked away. He could hardly breathe.

* * *

She stood, trying to flee the room. To go to their bedroom, put on some _clothes_, for God's sake.

He was desperate, standing, reaching for her.

"But — _why?_" Her eyes, desperate, her voice high and breathless.

"I saw it once —"

Her eyes widened in absolute horror.

_Oh good god, what does she think I was watching?_

"It was just a _picture, _darling —"

"That doesn't make it _better_!" she hissed, tears welling in her eyes.

He stopped, wanting to dry her tears, but she flinched away from his touch.

"So this is why you've —oh my god!" _Why you sucked your fingers_, but she could not say such a thing, could _not_, not when it meant _that._

"Why I've what? I —"

"I need to go sort my head."

And she was gone, rushing to the bedroom, closing the door.

Minutes later she emerged, her black dress buttoned practically up to her chin.

She collected her umbrella, her coat. She affixed her hat. The overall picture was of an elegant, decent woman. With terror in her eyes.

He sat at the kitchen table in his dressing gown. His hands resting on the table, he had been watching her get ready.

She couldn't stand the desperation in his eyes.

_Say something, Els._ She couldn't think what to say.

She lingered at the door.

"Will you be back?" His voice actually cracked as he said it. He looked at his hands.

A pause. Her disbelief that he would even have to _ask_ that. _Of __course_ _I'm coming back._

She nodded, but he still stared at his hands.

"I just need a walk to sort my head."

Her quiet response seemed clear to her.

* * *

**a/n: yesss give me your wrath and your angsty feeeeels! i love your reviews!**

**MWAH to kouw! Thank you so much!**


	108. Chapter 108

She lingered at the door.

"Will you be back?" His voice actually cracked as he said it. He looked at his hands.

A pause. Her disbelief that he would even have to _ask_ that. _Of __course_ _I'm coming back._

She nodded, but he still stared at his hands.

"I just need a walk to sort my head."

Her quiet response seemed clear to her.

* * *

She left, closing the door softly behind her.

She walked quickly, trying to shake out the embarrassment. To stamp out her irrational fear.

_What are you afraid of, Els?_

A kiss. In that forbidden place that she'd only learned to love in the past few months.

A _kiss, _though. How harmless.

But _right there. _And _then _what_?_

What she was imagining was a peck_. _Chaste, affectionate. Strange. She wrinkled her nose, curled her lip.

_Why would he want to…?_

There was no one she could ask about this. Not that she could _ever_ say the words out loud. Marie Stopes's book would be no help either.

She walked on. A winding path down to the little stream. She sat on a stone, warmed by the sun.

Her chin in her hands. A tear dropped, disappearing in the dark fabric of her sleeve.

"Ugh_." _She wiped at her tears, frustrated.

She tried to puzzle out the reasons for her upset.

Of _course_ the fact that he'd only seen it in a picture did make it better; it made it _infinitely_ better.

She shuddered at the insane notion of him having watched it in the flesh. He would never have been so crass, not even in his days on the halls. She didn't even want to _think_ about how such a show would have been orchestrated.

_Enough, Elsie_. _You're just winding yourself up more._

She took a deep breath and tried to think rationally.

_So he wants to kiss you there._

Memories flashed through her mind. His mouth on her hand. He had _sucked_ on her. Nibbled. His tongue had explored and worshipped every _inch_ of her fingers.

Suddenly she understood, and as adrenaline shot through her and she covered her mouth in shock, she also gasped out loud. Her exclamation sounded obscene to her in those quiet, pristine surroundings. She hugged herself tightly with her other arm, her hand clamped over her mouth as she stared at nothing.

_Oh my god, of course he doesn't mean... he means… he doesn't mean a __kiss. __He wants to __lick_ _me. He wants his __tongue_ _there. __His __mouth_ _on me._

It was _unheard_ of. It was _worse_. It was — baffling. Confusing.

She whispered it, half-horrified. "_His mouth on me."_

She was not entirely certain of all of the reasons for her shiver.

* * *

**a/n** **everybody breathe... then let me have all your wrath and angsty (and other) feels! thank you for your reviews!****  
**

and thank you always to the lovely** kouw!**


	109. Chapter 109

It was _unheard_ of.

She whispered it, half-horrified.

"_His mouth on me."_

She was not entirely certain of the reasons for her shiver.

* * *

She was _very_ certain that she wanted to see him again. This instant. To reconcile. To soothe and pet him if he'd let her. He'd meant no harm. The _other_ thing, well. That could wait.

_He wasn't even sure I would come back. Poor dear. _

It occurred to her that she had not actually told him "yes," that she would be back.

She gasped.

He had not seen her nod. He might actually not be sure of her.

She moved faster than she had in years as she jumped to her feet. She nearly forgot the umbrella — it had been absurd to take it in the first place. But on some level she had needed something to carry. Something protective, something to wield.

She was a little light-headed from her reflections and she narrowly avoided tripping over tree roots on her way.

* * *

An _hour_ she'd been gone.

He'd sat at the table for several minutes, considering going after her.

_In your pajamas, old man. Grabbing your woman, in broad daylight. _

And then the struggle that might have happened. No matter whether it was in public or in private, he would _never_ force her into anything.

Playfully grabbing her arm to spin her into his kiss was one thing. This — _this _was _awful_. And if she had to go on a walk, so be it.

_So be it._

Insane, these thoughts of her leaving him and never coming back. Over a thing like that. He could see he'd frightened her. Badly. He would never have imagined that, not after she so boldly showed herself to him.

Not after she took him that way last night — _oh Christ, the sight of her_ — and he shook his head, passed his hand over his face, and stood.

Although he was alone, he moved slowly, carefully. Mechanically.

As if a sudden movement could scatter everything to the winds.

His hands shook as he finished washing up. He dropped a teacup.

* * *

She stood outside with her hand on the doorknob. Thinking how to speak to him, how _not_ to speak about _that_, because she wasn't ready; she'd only just formed the idea of it in her own mind.

_His mouth —_

It was _such_ a strange notion, and one for which she had been completely unprepared.

Hearing the cup shatter, she turned the knob.

* * *

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**a/n thank you all for the reviews! i LOVE them. and thank YOU, guest reviewer(s) to whom I can't respond! **The comments about this being honest, not like in the movieez where they come together immediately and nothing has to be discussed. Thank you! It means a lot to me!


	110. Chapter 110

She heard the cup shatter and turned the knob.

* * *

Hearing the door, he looked up just as his fingers closed around the first shard.

Then he cursed as he realized he'd cut himself.

"Ohhh," she began, seeing what he'd done. She hesitated in the doorway.

"You came back." His voice, thick with grief.

"Of course I di— " She began brightly, but her smiling lilt caught on the last syllable as tears threatened.

She shook her head — _stop this flanneling, Els _— and crossed the room to him, barely pausing to rid herself of the blasted umbrella.

"Oh, my poor dear." She pulled at him. He rose, letting her bring his hand to the faucet. She leaned her head on his shoulder as best she could in her hat, washing his cut with soap.

Then she took the drying cloth and wrapped it tightly around his finger. They both relived those desperate moments months ago in his pantry when he had a paper cut. The barriers that had kept them apart then were long gone, burned away — suddenly replaced by other, far less familiar and much more unsettling ones.

Still, she pressed a kiss to each knuckle, the back of his hand, the inside of his wrist.

Dazed and cautious, he made no move on his own, but let her guide him.

She pressed his other hand over the cloth, touched his cheek with her fingertips — _he still looks so miserable _—

"Charlie, love, why don't you go sit down. I'll make us some tea."

"But the broken cup..."

"...is nothing you can deal with at the moment anyway, not with that cut. I'll get it."

He sat down at the kitchen table. She took off her hat, passing by him as she went to put it away.

"I meant the settee, but if you're comfortable there, suit yourself." He took in her little smile and her beautiful eyes that shone with love and something else. Sadness? Fear? He couldn't tell.

It didn't make sense to him that he was so viscerally afraid to let her out of his sight.

* * *

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**a/n i'd love to hear from you, lovely readers! let me know how you're doing. thank you! and thank you GUEST reviewers! i wish i could respond to your lovely insights; please know you're very appreciated! xoxo**

**thank you ****kouw****!**


	111. Chapter 111

He sat down at the kitchen table.

"I meant the settee, but if you're comfortable there, suit yourself." He took in her little smile and her beautiful eyes that shone with love and something else that looked like fear.

It didn't make sense to him that he was so viscerally afraid to let her out of his sight.

* * *

She swept up the pieces, feeling his eyes on her.

_Look at him, Els. You can do it._

She did. He looked devastated.

"Charlie. Please say something."

He closed his eyes, furrowing his brow.

"I don't want to lose you."

"You won't."

"I just — I can't believe that. I can't help but think I'm going to turn around and you'll be gone."

The tray was laid with cups and saucers, the pot ready. The kettle was on, and she slipped into the chair across from him, ducking her chin and looking at him in sympathy —_oh but it is difficult to look him in the eyes, after what he said, and now, now with this agony in his eyes._

Slowly, in a low voice, she spoke. "Mr Carson." Their shared discomfort brought back old habits.

Half a second saw his wounded look and the shake of her head with a blink, a frown, a little smile.

"_Charlie_. I'm not going anywhere. I'm not leaving you, and when I said I just needed a walk to sort my head, I meant it. No, it's _true_," she insisted when he looked at her incredulously.

The kettle started to whistle and she got up, irritated by the interruption.

He watched her pour the water and bring the tray to the table.

Her capable hands. _She is so __strong__. _

The hands that poured his medicine when he was ill. _She is __never_ _ill. I don't know how she does it._

His heart skipped a beat as he became aware of the reason for his terrible fear.

* * *

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**a/n: and i bet you know why too.  
drop me a line, pumpkins! i love your reviews! many thanks to you and to kouw!**


	112. Chapter 112

Her capable hands. _She is so strong._

The hands that had poured his medicine when he was ill. _She is __never__ ill. I don't know how she does it._

His heart skipped a beat as he became aware of the reason for his terrible fear.

* * *

It wasn't that he'd forgotten about her cancer scare. Far from it. Over the last four-odd years, he'd tried unsuccessfully to forget. And now he couldn't even try anymore.

But he refused to ask her about it just now. Not after the morning's disaster.

"Thank you," he said as she handed him his perfect cup of tea.

"Charlie, why would you ever think I would leave?"

He closed his eyes. "I don't want to bother you with it, not after — not after this morning."

They started to talk over one another unintentionally.

"Does it have to do with _that_? Because we can talk about —"

"No, no —" he began. "Wait — what?"

Nerves made her speak quickly, her voice high.

"Och, I said we can talk about it, but I'd very much prefer not to talk about it just yet."

She slowed down, her tone gentler. "I'd like to know why you're so afraid I would leave you."

Her heart was pounding and so was his. This was beginning to feel like a dreadful farce, and she was glad for the tea to settle her nerves a little.

"It was a long time ago, Elsie."

She held back a scoff, not wanting to embarrass him. "A long time could mean anything, love."

"About four years ago." _Please don't make me say it. Please._

She inhaled quickly.

"Did you know I knew?"

She nodded, biting her lip. "You want to know why I didn't tell you."

"I... Not exactly. I was so afraid, Elsie."

"So was I," she said quietly.

"Of course you were." He shook his head, frowning at himself, staring at his fingers tapping softly on the table. "And you had the right to keep it to yourself. I had no right to be so afraid."

She wiped a tear away and held her hand out to him."You had — you have — _every_ right. It was a terrible time. But we have to remember that it was never cancer."

He took her hand.

The only other time she'd seen him look this way was on that terrible night when they had lost Lady Sybil.

"Come here, darling." She stood, pulled at him, embraced him. He stood stiffly for a fraction of a second and then crushed her to him, strong arms wrapped around her.

Enveloped. Protected. Loved fiercely.

It was what she needed too after feeling so exposed just _thinking_ about what he wanted to do with his mouth.

* * *

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**a/n how you doin', love? thanks for your reviews! thank you ****kouw**** for beta magic and ESPECIALLY for pointing out the connection between his fear of her leaving and the visceral, never-dealt-with fear from her cancer scare.**


	113. Chapter 113

He shook his head, frowning at himself, staring at his fingers tapping softly on the table. "I had no right to be so afraid."

She wiped a tear away and held her hand out to him."You have _every_ right to feel that way, but you needn't worry." She smiled at him then. "You're stuck with me."

He looked up at her. She remembered the only other time she'd seen him look this way. it was when they had lost Lady Sybil.

"Come here, darling." She stood, pulled at him, embraced him. He stood stiffly for a fraction of a second and then crushed her to him, strong arms wrapped around her.

It was what she needed too after feeling so exposed just _thinking_ about what he wanted to do with his mouth.

* * *

They breathed together, him cradling her head against his chest. She wrapped her arms tightly around him, sighing.

"I know it was never cancer. It doesn't change anything."

Her sudden laugh sounded almost angry. "I'll say it does."

He cursed his stupidity. "Oh, good god. Yes, of _course_ it does, darling."

She understood his tone and softened hers. "You still worry."

He sighed heavily.

She pushed back and looked him in the eye. "It was _never_ cancer," she said forcefully and he winced, just slightly. "I — I wish I could say something, Charlie. To make this fear go away."

His gentle fingertips lingered on her cheek and she leaned into his hand, closing her eyes and kissing his palm.

"We've left it all so late." It was she who said it.

He didn't know what to say. _She's right._ He settled on that.

"You're right."

She sighed.

He struggled with himself. _Say something, old man. Do it._

"I'm sorry."

She frowned. "For what, exactly?"

_Oh god. _"For… everything."

He still didn't know what the hell he was doing. Maybe it would be alright to admit that for once.

Her puzzled expression, laced with frustration.

"I wish I could go back," he began. His voice caught.

She sighed. "So do I, my man."

"So much time lost. I wish you'd heard me."

"Heard you?" She didn't know what he was hinting at.

"Even just four years ago. I was sure you would. You'd just come back with the doctor's good news."

She bit back her smile. "Oh... Dashing away with a smoothing iron?"

He stood open-mouthed. "You knew."

She drew him down to her and kissed him softly.

When he broke the kiss, she beamed at him.

"Why didn't you come find me? Why didn't you let on?"

"I couldn't, love. Just imagine it."

A pause. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I know."

"You were _impossible_."

He frowned, tucked his chin.

"Yes, you were."

He sighed, knowing it was true. Then he took another deep breath, held it. Wanting to ask her, wanting to forget about it.

"What?"

He shook his head. "I don't want to press you. You had a right to keep your own counsel."

"I _couldn't_ tell you. Do you want to know why?"

"No, it's alright —"

"I didn't want you to think of me as a sick woman. A dying woman."

He shook his head quickly, desperately, as he pulled her into him again.

"I can't think of you that way."

* * *

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**a/n **thank you so much to **kouw** for your beta magic! and thank you everyone for your reviews! I loooove reading what you think of this long loooong journey they are on. thank you!


	114. Chapter 114

"I didn't want you to think of me as a sick woman. A dying woman."

He shook his head quickly, desperately, as he pulled her into him again.

"I can't think of you that way."

* * *

She held on tighter.

"Then don't."

He nearly broke. "My love, it's not that easy."

"No, I mean — I want you to think of me as your _wife_. The living, breathing woman who loves you." _Who wants you beyond all reason. _A week ago she would have said that out loud, and she was sure she would again.

"I love you, Elsie."

He still sounded so devastated. Her words were not working.

She backed away just enough to take his hand, pressing his palm against her chest. Just over her heart. Just over the breast that could have killed her.

_Does he know?_ She didn't know if she wanted to tell him it'd been her breast. She wasn't sure whether it would help or hurt.

But it was _never _cancer.

"Can you feel my heartbeat, Charlie? _Feel it._ I'm _alive_. And so are you."

Desire and grief combined in the groan that rumbled from his chest to hers.

She closed her eyes, her breath trembling. Intense heat from his hand through her high-necked black dress, her shift. His hand moved down.

He cupped her breast so gently, she almost couldn't feel it through her corset.

She pulled at him and kissed him. Softly, slowly. Tears began to fall as they paused to breathe, their foreheads leaning together.

He stared._ God_, the rise and fall of her chest. Her rapid breathing. Her severe dress. The fabric moving with her.

"Elsie…" Her body curved toward him of its own accord as his voice caressed her name.

"Mmmm..."

"Elsie, I know it's terribly forward of me, but —" His intent was simply to kiss her. It was strange to ask it, but after their rocky morning he didn't want to presume anything.

"Yes."

"What? You don't know —"

"Yes."

He frowned, puzzled. She smiled and bit her lip.

He brushed his thumb across her bottom lip — one of his favorite new freedoms.

"You don't even know what you're saying yes to." He meant it playfully.

A flicker of worry across her face. His immediate regret. He stumbled over his words. "You're maybe thinking about what I said this morning; that's not I meant. I mean, I would love to — but only if _you_ — oh god. Just now I only meant to ask if I could kiss you." He winced as the words came out.

_"Here,"_ he emphasized, his fingertips touching her mouth, her bitten lip.

She took a deep breath and grasped both his hands, then looked up and smiled nervously at him.

"Yes. The other thing... I'd really like it if we left it be for now."

"Of course." He'd talked over the last two words in her sentence, but it didn't matter. She was already pulling him down to her, pressing his hand to her breast.

* * *

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**a/n and the angst storm lets up... i'd love to know what you think! Thank you kouw!**


	115. Chapter 115

A flicker of worry across her face. His immediate regret. He stumbled over his words. "You're maybe thinking about what I said this morning; that's not I meant. I mean, I would love to — but only if _you_ — oh god. Just now I only meant to ask if I could kiss you." He winced as the words came out.

_"Here,"_ he emphasized, his fingertips touching her mouth, her bitten lip.

She took a deep breath and grasped both his hands, then looked up and smiled nervously at him.

"Yes. The other thing... I'd really like it if we left it be for now."

"Of course." He'd talked over the last two words in her sentence, but it didn't matter. She was already pulling him down to her, pressing his hand to her breast.

* * *

Closing her eyes to kiss him, she felt his resistance. His neck against her hand, the back of his hand against her palm.

_Oh my poor darling man_. She stopped pulling him.

"Did you — did you hear what I said, Charlie?" Her voice was half whisper.

"Yes — you don't want to talk about it. We don't have to. I'm sorry I ever brought it up." He looked devastated.

"No — that's not it, my love. I just.. I'm not ready to talk about it, but — I want to. To talk about it — soon," she breathed.

He inhaled swiftly, adrenaline rushing through him. _Good god, her eyes _— she looked loving, even aroused, biting her lip with a gentle smile.

He relaxed into her, his hand curving around her breast. His thumb caressed her through the dress, over the top of her corset.

Her breath trembled slightly at his touch, she closed her eyes. Whispered.

"Can you feel my heart?"

"Y— yes —" It was strong. Living, beating fast.

"I'm not going anywhere, Charlie."

And she reached up and he leaned down and she closed the distance, kissing him softly.

His other hand at her waist, he drew her close. He broke the kiss to nuzzle her neck, her ear.

"I want to show you," she began.

"Hmmm?" His voice rumbling in her ear made her shiver.

"Where it was. The thing we thought was cancer."

His quick intake of breath. Relief and uncertainty mixed in his eyes.

"Yes. Please," he managed.

She took his hand and slowly led him to their bedroom.

As they went, she began to unbutton her high-necked dress with one hand.

* * *

His gentle hand over hers. Warm. Strong.

"You don't mind if I…" He gestured to her buttons.

Her small smile, her shining eyes as she shook her head. Her hand on his chest, fingers slowly starting to curl around his lapel. Her soft voice reassuring him.

"I don't mind it. I do like it when you're bold."

Relieved, he cradled her head in one hand and leaned his forehead against hers.

"And I'm sorry I scared you, Charlie." He looked up, questioning. She nodded, remembering her reactions of the morning.

She let him undo her long line of buttons. He kissed her neck, her chest as she was slowly revealed. Her skin was hot to the touch. Her quiet little moans. At her nod, he slowly pushed the dress off her shoulders, over her hips. She stepped out of it and he draped it over a chair.

In corset and shift she stood before him, warm and alive and loving.

She smiled at him, welcoming him. Waiting for him to unwrap her, ready to show him.

* * *

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**a/n **thank you for the notes and love! i would love to know what you think of this little ditty in this long-ass epic. drop me a line pls! thank you!  
special thanks to kouw, the most wonderful beta a girl could imagine and a dear friend.


	116. Chapter 116

In corset and shift she stood before him, warm and alive and loving.

She smiled at him, welcoming him. Waiting for him to unwrap her, ready to show him.

* * *

He opened her corset with expert hands. Both pleasure and cold were in her shiver as the corset fell away.

She whispered softly, "Wait…"

He paused, his hands just about to land gently on her shoulder, her waist. She smiled up at him.

"You're wearing an awful lot."

Instantly, he slipped out of both his jacket and his shoes. He rushed to unbutton his shirt.

Her soft laugh. "There's no hurry, my love." She kissed his hands and brought them to her waist, then left them there as she undid his buttons.

_Unwrapping him like the gift he is_, she thought, and immediately wanted to roll her eyes at such mawkishness. Maybe. But only just a little.

He kept his hands at her waist. His only movement was his thumbs caressing her through the shift.

She divested him of his shirt and undershirt, and he made quick work of socks and trousers and shorts. She removed her knickers, then brought his hands to the hem of her shift.

They had undressed each other dozens of times.

This was not so very different. This was _entirely_ different.

He raised her hem. Reverently, he made her naked.

With the sun shining in and no one to see them, she drew him over to the window.

Cupping her breast, she showed him the scar.

A line that once must have looked angry. Small faded dots where stitches had been. Flat pink and shining silver caught the light and took his breath away.

"This is it. This is all there is to it, my love."

His hand rose of its own accord, then stopped.

"Can I —"

"Yes."

He traced it lightly with his fingertips.

"I've wondered if that's what this is."

"Yes."

"Does it hurt?" His sudden worry, his eyes questioning hers.

Her little smile, bitten lip, bright eyes.

"Darling man. No, it doesn't hurt."

He bent down to kiss it.

"You're so beautiful, Elsie."

"So are you."

* * *

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**a/n **thanks for reading! do tell me what you think! i'm hoping to get a few more chapters in tonight. thank you for your reviews (including you lovely guest reviewers to whom I wish I could respond) and reblogs and follows and faves. MWAH

and thank you kouw for everything!


	117. Chapter 117

"You're beautiful, Elsie."

"So are you."

* * *

He was a bit taken aback. He raised his head, searching for signs of her teasing.

She looked serious. Her fingertips were gentle on his cheek.

"You think I'm — _beautiful?_" He scoffed.

"Absolutely."

He furrowed his brow, looking skeptical. She laughed softly.

"Oh my man. You have no idea, do you?"

He squared his shoulders. "Well, I may have been a bit vain when I was younger. But I came to my senses."

Her man in the nude with his mock seriousness. She laughed, wrinkling her nose. Her hand trailed down to rest on his shoulder.

His voice, quiet and low and easy. "I haven't seen you make that face in a long time."

"Haven't you?"

His small, pleased smile as he shook his head.

"And just what face did I make, if I may know?"

"You smile, and you have this little wrinkle, right here" — and he touched the bridge of her nose — "and here, and here" — and he touched each side of her nose. "And when you smile like that, it's very… it's very reassuring."

"Reassuring?"

"Yes — It makes me think that all is well, or will be." He tried to stifle a yawn; his eyelids were starting to feel heavy after the day's emotional upheaval.

Her voice was soft. "You've tried to change the subject."

"Have I?"

"You're beautiful, my man."

"Hmm." He smiled through his frown.

"Just don't get a big head about it."

He chuckled.

She did too, but for another reason. "Good lord, look at us. A couple of old lovebirds in the _altogether_ in the middle of the day. Lingering by the window, no less."

She reached up to smooth his furrowed brow.

"But no one can see us," she continued.

He sighed, closing his eyes. She could see he shared her fatigue.

"Should we get dressed?"

He shook his head. "Honestly, I'd like nothing more than to lie down for a bit. Like this."

Her soft chuckle, her nod. _I don't think I could stand having clothing between us right now either._

She was already removing pins, letting her hair fall loose around her shoulders. He slid his hands through the heavy silk of it, brought it to his nose, and kissed her lips.

They slid between the sheets and lay together, his chest to her back. She kissed his fingertips. Then it was his arm around her waist, his hand where she'd put it. Warmly covering her breast.

They talked sleepily.

"It's been a long day," she mumbled.

"Hmm. It's only four. Half-past, maybe."

"Daft lovely man. Always so precise."

"Daft?"

He felt her soft laughter.

"Never daft, not really."

Quiet, painless tears of fatigue. Her body shook as her crying deepened, and he held her closer, alarmed.

"Elsie, my love, what's wrong?"

She caught her breath and managed to speak. "Nothing, truly. I know, it's silly. But I just need — I need to cry. I'm alright, I can promise you. I suppose it's strange, but i just need to. It's alright."

He dried her tears and held her close. She turned in his arms, resting her head on his shoulder, her arm around him.

After her tears abated, she sighed, relieved. Happy, even. So did he, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

The comfort and warmth of lying naked together healed them as they drifted off to sleep.

* * *

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a/n these goobers are gonna kill me. i hope that you are enjoying this. please let me know what you think; i long for your reviews! many thanks! and very many thanks to kouw for beta magic; this one needed some serious help. and thank you guest reviewer(s) to whom I wish i could respond. luuuurrrve


	118. Chapter 118

**just in case... the first update of today was 117. thanks for reading!**

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The comfort and warmth of lying naked together healed them as they drifted off to sleep.

* * *

He woke in the darkness, her warmth pressed against him. Glorious, her head on his shoulder, her arm around his middle, her hair across his chest and arm.

He'd be lying if he said he hadn't shed a few tears of his own as they fell asleep together. After the visceral terror of losing her had finally been openly declared, he knew she wasn't going to leave him. Not of her own accord, and not from the benign whatever-it-was that they removed years ago.

_Her beautiful perfect breast, made even more beautiful by the scar that proves she's well._

Now he lay quietly, thinking.

He didn't want to live his life in fear of the inevitable. One or the other of them would die first. Someone would be left behind. The thought was horrifying. After all this time denying themselves, rising to the top of their profession, doing work that truly was satisfying for both of them, to have found each other _now_

He sighed. Many thoughts curled through his mind at once.

_I __think_ _it's been satisfying for her too. She once said I "worship" the family. I know she doesn't. I'll have to ask her about it. If she's been happy. If I've made her happy. Happi__er._

He smiled into the dark room, until he remembered his humiliation at her response this morning. He wanted to pleasure her with his mouth, to taste her, feel her on his tongue, his lips, bury his face in her scent — _Oh Christ, that scent _—

_She said she wanted to talk about it._

_A good sign._

_How the hell do we __talk_ _about that?_

He remembered their heated moments in the bathtub. _That's_ _how. Well, that's __one_ _way. But how to talk about it normally. To explain, to tell her I mean no harm._

He sighed again. His thoughts turned gloomy.

'_Till death us do part.'_

_But we're healthy, I'm not old _— he smirked a little, remembering the look she'd thrown him once when he'd said that.

_I should stop calling myself 'old man.' I should not stop; I should face it. I don't know._

_I am sixty-six years old. And she is not sixty yet._

_Men die sooner._ The bluntness of his thoughts took him by surprise.

Horrid images of her left alone. Visiting his grave.

He lay in the darkness, staring at the ceiling, thinking too much.

* * *

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**a/n** I'm sorry about the angst; I was not expecting this but he was having some very big feelings and they needed to be acknowledged. Please know that the goobers are safe with me. They kill me, it's true, but I will not harm them. I'd love it if you'd drop me a line about this fucking sad, depressing mindpoop of a chapter. Ugh. goddammit. creys about the goobers for their restraint, missed chances, aging, beauty, love, secret courtship (?) and autumn love (?).


	119. Chapter 119

**just in case... the first update of today was 117. thanks for reading!**

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He lay in the darkness, staring at the ceiling, thinking too much.

* * *

She woke up with a start. Something was wrong.

He was startled too, at her sudden movement. She sat up, pushing her hair out of her face. She could just make out his face in the darkness.

"Charlie?"

He shook his head, wiped at his eyes.

Her voice immediately softened, taking on comforting tones. "Oh Charles. Oh, my love. Come here, my man."

And she lay down again, drawing his head to her bosom. He curled around her, shaking the bed with his sobs. She petted his hair, holding him close, letting him get it all out. Her other hand stroked his back, occasionally squeezing his shoulder.

She whispered her words of love to him as he wept his pain, his fear, his regret. Her tears flowed as well. She couldn't have known it yet, but in that moment they shared the same thoughts.

_Men die sooner. Left behind. All the time we've wasted. We could have _—

"I'm so sorry, Elsie," he ground out.

"Why?" her voice broke and he looked up at her. Seeing her tears, he tried to compose himself. She dried one of his tears and he grasped her hand and kissed it.

"All that lost time."

"Oh, Charlie —"

"Have you — been happy, Mrs Hu—" His slip-up made him laugh bitterly. "My love, my Elsie." His voice still wavered. "Have you been happy?"

"With you? Happier than I could ever have imagined."

Her fingers running through his hair. He shook his head. "I mean — with your life. In service. Are you glad?"

"I think you know that. I'm proud of my work. Of _our_ work."

"But we could have…" He trailed off, somehow unable to say it.

"We could have... gone another way? Yes, I regret that sometimes too." She spoke slowly, carefully, her voice sad but strong.

He lay back down, his head on her chest, and she held him.

"I do too." His voice rumbled through her.

"But we have our downstairs family. You're like a father to Daisy. And Anna."

"That's true," he said softly.

They remained quiet for a long time. Her hand rested on his head as she grew sleepy.

"I love you." Again his voice vibrated through her. It woke her up, but not much.

"Love you too."

"So many regrets. There's so much we could have had together."

"Yes."

She wanted to comfort him, but she could barely stay awake. She would tell him that she didn't regret their life together, that she would have welcomed children with him, but that what they _had_ built was indeed meaningful. Another time she would tell him.

"My god. What do we _do_ with that?"

He sounded so sad to her.

"Mmmhh... we live a little, mo gradh," she mumbled. She hardly knew what she was saying as she drifted off, but he heard it and it stayed with him.

"We live a little." He whispered it, not wanting to wake her again. His wife with unbraided hair, sleepy and warm.

He did rather want to wake her, to take her in his arms and kiss her, thank her for her wisdom, and then bring her pleasure. _Live a little._

But for now he wrapped himself around her, sighed, and relaxed. He was feeling better knowing he wasn't alone. He still needed to shed the tears that came now, softly, falling onto her chest. He pulled up the covers to keep her warm.

In her sleep she held on to him.

* * *

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a/n (sigh of relief) that's better, no? drop me a line please! xoxo


	120. Chapter 120

Early orange-pink light filled their room. Her man was wrapped around her, snoring softly.

She felt an overpowering wave of love. Blinking, she felt one tear escape and roll toward her ear. She didn't mind. She smiled, stroking his hair.

Memories of his torment in the middle of the night. Regrets. The time lost.

She sighed. She'd decided a long time ago that having children was not the way for her. Truth be told, she did feel like a mother to Anna and Daisy. And William… dear William.

They were their children, in a way.

_But to have bairns that we made together. That look like us._

_They would have been beautiful. _

She gave a soft rueful laugh, imagining a poor wee thing with a nose like that.

Her own regrets were few. Yes, she wished they could have reached this point earlier. Young and strong, they would have had everything. But her life in service had been a good one. She was proud of all they'd built.

Her touch and her laughter gradually woke him. He stretched luxuriously and turned back to curl around her, kissing the side of her breast.

_My big wonderful man._

Thirty years ago he was the first footman. All long limbs and big nose and imperious frown. The sternness was incongruous on such a young man, but having heard his stories, she understood now why he'd been that way.

_Still, he was __really_ _impossible then_.

She stroked his shoulder. He smiled up at her, sleepy and sweet. They embraced tightly, then relaxed into each other again.

The end of their conversation in the middle of the night was fuzzy in her memory. He'd asked something and she'd responded, but she had no idea what it was. No matter.

_I'll ask him later whether he remembers._

"Good morning, you." Her voice was a caress.

"Good morning. Did you sleep well?"

"I did. Did you?"

"I slept so well, my love. I had the most marvelous pillow."

She smiled, then looked at him seriously.

"Are you alright, Charlie?"

He nodded slowly, considering the question carefully. "I — Yes. I am, actually. And… are you alright?"

"I am. But I'd like to, erm, have you closer."

They were lying right next to one another in bed; he didn't know how they could possibly be any closer. _Unless_... _ohhh._

His face must have shown his confusion, because she blushed, biting her lip.

"It's a little hard to talk about, my man."

"Except when we're in the bathtub."

She gasped, but quickly managed, "Or tiddly."

He frowned, trying to remember.

"That first night, my man."

"Ah. I cannot thank Marie Stopes enough."

She gave one short syllable of laughter, bit her lip, and recovered.

"I think you have _me _to thank too, Charlie. Although it's true I would never have tried it out myself if not for —" She stopped herself, wide-eyed.

He actually _grinned _at her, the wicked man.

She blushed. "Well. Don't tell me _you_ never —" She looked away.

He had never seen her like this, and he was enjoying every second of it.

"Never what?"

"Never… you know."

_My god, she's flustered._

"No, Elsie. What ever do you mean?"

"_Indulged _yourself."

His attempt to look disapproving failed entirely.

"I tried not to."

She pulled back to look at him. "Oh, did you now?"

"For a long time."

Her soft laugh was only half nerves.

"What changed it?"

"Our mid-Season telephone call."

* * *

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**a/n and we're back! **

ahh, that's better. we're back in a major key now (i refer to the one-shot alternate chapter 120 angsty mindpoop)

i would love love love to see your reviews! i read each and every one with delight. Thank you, everyone! Thank you, kouw for being wonderful, and being a wonderful beta!


	121. Chapter 121

**nota bene: today's first update was 120. (also check out the variation on 120 if you feel like reading angst.)**

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* * *

"What changed it?"

"Our mid-Season telephone call."

* * *

"_What?"_

She was genuinely surprised. Her eyes twinkling, she made that face he loved.

He shifted so that they were lying side by side, and kissed her nose as she wrinkled it at him.

"If you must know, I was rather tormented." His tone was mock-serious.

She gasped, breathless. "Tormented? Really?"

"I couldn't stop thinking about you."

"Get away with you." Her voice was suddenly soft, tender.

"No, it's true. I woke up every morning —" he stopped abruptly.

_Good god, man, are you about to tell her this?_

"Oh, don't, my man. Don't stop and get all worried and blustery. Please?"

"I… hmmm.. Well, suffice to say I had to… on the morning of our telephone call, or I would have made a fool of myself."

"Did you think of me?"

His heart skipped a beat. "_What?"_

"When you… erm. Did you think of me?"

He blinked in disbelief that she could talk like this.

_That night in the tub, though _—

He hoped she would do that again some day. He didn't know how to ask her.

He nodded. "Every time."

She inhaled rapidly and he took advantage of the moment to ask her something.

"Elsie."

She blinked, shook her head slightly.

"Do you know what you said last night? You were falling asleep, I think —"

"I meant to ask, actually. I remember you asked a question, and I said something, but I've got no idea —"

"I had wondered aloud what we should do. With all the regrets, with all the — all the lost time." He grew serious thinking about it. "But you —" He began to smile again — "you had a wise answer, darling."

He waited for her impatience to grow.

"Wise, indeed? Well! What was it then, love?"

"You simply said that we're to _live a little_."

She beamed at him.

"Heavens, such wisdom in moments of extreme fatigue."

"Yes. But then you said something else. But... surely you were just mumbling. Falling asleep."

_You're a hopeless liar._ Both of them thought it simultaneously.

"What was it?"

"Something like — moy rah…?"

"Oh my." Her little smile. He wanted to kiss her dimples.

"What, _oh my_?"

"It's Gaelic, darling. Mo gràdh."

"Meaning?"

"Cold bowl of pease porridge."

* * *

.

**a/n** these goobers, amirite?

please drop me a line! many many thanks! MWAH!


	122. Chapter 122

**first one today was 120 (with alternate 120 too. which is a cathartic angst fest)**

.

* * *

"It's Gaelic, darling. Mo gràdh."

"Meaning?"

"Cold bowl of pease porridge."

* * *

"Never."

"Wait, no... it's not pease porridge. Hmm… let me try to remember. I think it's 'lukewarm cup of stewed tea' instead…ahh!" And she could not but laugh, because he had given her bottom a squeeze, suppressing the urge to _tickle_ her instead. He had learned several days into their marriage that she _hated_ tickling.

Instead he kissed her soundly.

When he released her she was breathless, her eyelids heavy, her hands reaching for him.

She said more words he couldn't understand and he stared at her in wonder. From the way her tongue wrapped itself around the syllables —_ ha gull akam orsht,_ it was incomprehensible— he had the impression of hearing the origins of her brogue. Something primal. It was profoundly erotic.

_She would roll her eyes at me for that. Thinking of her as so very foreign when she's been here for decades. Getting in such a state about the way she speaks._

"What does it really mean?"

"Mo gràdh is 'my dear.' 'My darling,' that sort of thing." She grinned at him, waiting for his next question.

"And the other thing?"

"Tha gaol agam ort. It means … I love you. Like a lover."

He closed his eyes and pressed his hand against the base of her spine, pulling her into him. She could feel him growing hard.

"Good god, Elsie, the way you talk —"

"You like my accent, Mr Carson?"

"I like your _everything_, Mrs Hughes."

"Do you now?" She wasn't sure why it made her feel a little flustered.

He leaned in to kiss her. She rose up to meet him.

And then he was kissing her neck, her shoulder. Teasing her. Her breath began to shake.

Their skin was still hot from sleep.

He whispered in her ear. "I love the taste of you."

Her gasp became a moan as his mouth closed over her nipple.

* * *

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a/n: thanks for reading! i'd love to read what you think of this little proto-smut... xoxo! thank you!


	123. Chapter 123

He whispered in her ear. "I love the taste of you."

Her gasp became a moan as his mouth closed over her nipple.

* * *

Sucking on it, swirling his tongue around it, he gave a deep moan. She arched into him as his voice vibrated through her.

Thoughts rushed through her mind.

_His mouth on me._

_He meant no harm._

_Live a little._

As difficult as it was, she stopped him, pulling at him so he would come back to her.

Her fingers were in his hair, then trailing over his cheek.

Her other arm around his neck, his around her waist. Naked together, face to face.

He looked worried, again. _Poor darling — Oh, out with it, Els._

"Poor darling man... I know you meant no harm."

_No harm. _He frowned in slight confusion; he knew _exactly_ what she was talking about, but her feelings and intent were unclear.

"Yesterday," she tried to clarify.

"How do you mean that...?"

She spoke gently, so urgent to say her piece that she really did not hear his question. "And of course it's better that you saw it in a picture. I can't even imagine —"

_Where the hell is she going with this?_

He listened, focusing so intently he forgot to breathe.

She was… not mortified, exactly. But all of her words felt wrong, unclear.

She took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry about my reaction yesterday, Charlie."

Needless conciliatory words began to tumble from his mouth — "never mind" and "I shouldn't have mentioned it" and the like.

She shook her head and bit her lip, frustrated with the difficulty of expressing this.

He stopped immediately, even inhaling as if he could withdraw the words.

Several seconds of silence that felt like minutes.

"I was ...afraid, Charlie. It was something I'd never heard of. I know, I'm usually the one for change and new things, but this — erm. This is different."

He wanted to speak. Even more, he longed to kiss her, to taste the lips that had formed those delicious words, so foreign and tangled to his ears.

But she'd never opened up like this before and he was not about to stifle it.

"I think... I..."

_Oh Els, this is your husband._

_And he wants this._

She laughed nervously.

"At first I thought you just meant a little kiss..."

He stared at her, unsure whether to laugh or not.

"But then I remembered — what you did with — with my hand."

He nodded, unwilling to interrupt her.

She bit her lip and met his eyes.

"Well, I suppose I did say that about living a little, didn't I..."

He nodded, cleared his throat, managing a small nervous smile. "Twice."

* * *

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a/n and things are moving along. i'd love to hear from you! your reviews give me LIFE. :) thank you thank you! and thank you always to kouw for magical beta awesomeness. MWAH


	124. Chapter 124

"At first I thought you just meant a little kiss..."

He stared at her, unsure whether to laugh or not.

"But then I remembered what you did with — with my hand."

He nodded, unwilling to interrupt her.

She bit her lip and met his eyes.

"I suppose I did say that about living a little, didn't I..."

He nodded, managing a small nervous smile. "Twice."

* * *

She gave a little nervous giggle.

"Oh lord, I have said it twice. I suppose something that wise bears repeating..."

It was lovely to be so very close together while having this conversation. Warm, under shared blankets, in their bed.

_Lovely and… overwhelming._

Their night's sleep together had brought out the scent of their soap, his aftershave, and the deeper, more primal scents of their own bodies. She could smell her sex.

All at once many thoughts rushed through her mind.

_Surely he can smell it too._

_He loves the taste of me_.

She thought of his mouth on her nipple just a moment ago.

_He meant my skin, surely. My _— _my bosom._

_This is absurd. You know what he meant. You know what it is to have his mouth on your hand. Why not…_

She sighed. It went against every notion of propriety, modesty, and shame that she'd been taught.

It occurred to her that it probably went against all that _he'd_ been taught too.

_So do those vulgar words _— and she took a trembling breath, closing her eyes, remembering the unspeakably good time — _unspeakable, that sounds about right _—that they'd had in the bathtub when she'd forced herself to say those things out loud.

_And him, mind. You made him say them too._

But she wasn't embarrassed about that night. She _cherished_ it. The memory alone made her heart clench with love and the muscles of her sex tighten and release.

It had only been a few seconds but he'd felt a change in her. When she shivered, he held her a little tighter.

Her eyes flew open and she gave a little smile in response to his questioning look.

"What are you thinking about, my Elsie?"

She steeled herself. Took a deep breath. _Be brave, Els. Trust him. Now._

She bit her lip and looked him in the eye. Her heart clenched again at the adoration she saw there.

"I was thinking about a fair few things, Charlie." The smile in her voice was intoxicating.

He waited, reaching up gently to tuck her hair behind her ear. She closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation, then pressed on.

"I was thinking about that night in the bathtub."

"Ah."

"How I pushed you, how you were willing, how… how _lovely_ it was. Truly."

He wanted very badly to kiss her, but instead he gave a little hum. He hoped she would continue.

* * *

.

a/n: And don't we all hope she'll continue... She will, not to worry. Meanwhile, I'd love to hear from you! Thank you, everyone, for the love! I covet your reviews.  
And thank you kouw for your beta magic and wonderful ideas for how this discussion continues... xoxoxo


	125. Chapter 125

"I was thinking about that night in the bathtub."

"Ah."

"How I pushed you, how you were willing, how… how _lovely_ it was. Truly."

He wanted very badly to kiss her, but instead he gave a little hum. He hoped she would continue.

* * *

"And the thing you were talking about — about, kissing me, erm, _there._ It's so new to me, and I can only imagine it's new to you too."

Her eyes held a question, and he nodded.

"It was brave of you to ask it, my man."

Her words alone could easily have been misconstrued as a prelude to rejection. Such a question was easily put to rest before it even arose, however, by her purring tone, her loving look, and her thumb on his lip.

_He looks hopeful_. Her heart soared. Suddenly she could not but beam at him.

"I think —" Her voice caught; she bit her lip again.

"Your poor lip, darling…" He said it this time without fear.

They both laughed softly, remembering the time — seconds before their first kiss — when he'd first said that phrase to her. The charged moments in his pantry at Downton after a harrowing, exciting Season.

His desire to touch her lips was only outweighed by his need to hear more.

Her hand drifted up to cradle his head, drawing him in. She kissed him softly and leaned her forehead against his.

She took another deep breath and held it for a moment. _You can do this, Els_. She smiled.

"I think — that it sounds thrilling."

He blinked, shaking his head, his mouth starting to form the beginning of a "what?" but he didn't even have to ask.

"I _want_ to, Charlie. I want your mouth on me."

He gaped at her, his heart pounding. He could not quite believe what he was hearing.

"You're sure?"

She nodded. "Yesterday when I ran away, I just needed some time to think on it."

He swallowed, flinching a little at the memory.

She kissed his furrowed brow and then held him close, his head against her bosom. He could hear her heart pounding and he closed his eyes, savoring this moment.

"Charlie?"

"Hmm?" His voice rumbled through her chest and her fingers tightened on his shoulder.

"I just want to ask… do you still want to? I mean, of course it doesn't have to be now, if you don't —"

His breath shook. "God, yes."

Her breath hitched in the middle of her relieved sigh.

_It's getting easier to say these things._

She trembled with arousal at the idea of it, and then even more at the sensation of his hand at one breast and his mouth at the other. Arching into him again, she whispered his name and grasped his hair, pressing him into her. She hooked one leg over his hip, her body wanting to open up for him.

His touch was heavy silk as his hand travelled slowly from her breast down her side. He lingered at her hip, running his hand over her bottom, reaching around to stroke her lightly. Her shaking moan spurred him on and he sucked at her nipple, sliding his fingers over her curls, not quite touching her yet.

"Oh my god, Charlie, _please…"_

"Hmm?"

"Please, Charlie, _touch_ me…"

Had his thoughts still been able to form words, they might have been something like — _my god, she's begging me _— _she said yes _— _luscious woman _— _she's given me permission to taste her _—

And instead of granting her plea with his fingers, he gently pushed her leg from his hip, rolling her onto her back. His mouth left her breast and he was kissing, licking, nipping his way down her front, to her navel, past it, kissing the line where her thigh met her belly.

She was in ecstasy; this touch was unheard of, this was — _ohhhhh_ — his hot open mouth on the skin of her inner thighs, kissing up and down, _teasing _her, and she was already shaking in anticipation.

And then he was opening her up.

His thumbs, so gentle, parting her outer lips. Stroking her, lightly massaging.

He was _looking_ at her there; it was so _intimate_ and she was thrilled, nervous, she was — _oh my god, his hot breath on me_ —

And then, oh _then_ he made contact. His tongue, _soft warm wet_ on her sex, swirling, pressing —

"Charlie — er —"

He raised his head immediately, worried, breaking contact. Her body jerked with the shock of it.

"Oh no, please don't stop — it's so good — just — a little lighter if you're right on that spot, please? You're so — your _mouth_, oh god —"

Her words dissolved in moans as he buried his face in her.

* * *

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a/n how are you, darling? thank you kouw for the beta awesomeness, and thank you everyone for your reviews and reblogs. xoxo. happy downton day!


	126. Chapter 126

Her words dissolved in moans as he buried his face in her.

* * *

Spicy. Intoxicating. Wet.

Her heat was overwhelming. Her sex — slippery, luscious, unbearably erotic. He'd not known what it would feel like against his tongue but that smooth skin, _Christ this is amazing_ — and her wetness, her moans, her _moans_ would be his undoing but _damn_ he would die a happy man.

He dismissed the thought happily. _Not death_. This was _life_, this was the place where life began and good _god_ it was incredible —

It was worth every second of torment he'd endured yesterday. Worth every fear of losing her to cancer, or to his own folly, or to the worries and shame their culture had taught them.

All of that suffering fell away as her thighs rose up around him.

_Her pussy._

Another forbidden word. A word for licking and sucking. For soft unrelenting touch.

_Cunt. _To him it felt like a word for thrusting, pounding, for _fucking_. All with the tenderest of love, of course, but _god,_ when she'd cried out for him and told him to go _harder_ he had lost his mind.

_Thank god she likes it._ The heat, the need. The desperation, the thrusting, and the love, the _love_ that permeated them.

_I am the luckiest man in the world_.

Lightening his touch, opening her with gentle thumbs again, he dared look up.

Her beautiful body lay before him. Wide open, one hand on her breast, the other tangled in her hair. Her eyes were closed, her lips plump and reddened from biting and arousal.

She was wrapping her hair tightly around one wrist_._

He tucked that image away to wonder about it later, and deepened their contact again, pressing experimentally with his chin, eliciting sounds he'd never heard before.

He wondered.

He stopped wondering and simply tried it, sucking her clitoris gently into his mouth. Her response — deep moans, arching, affirmations and even a profanity or two —

She was _delicious._

* * *

_His mouth on me. _Her body rocked against him, but he did not break contact.

She could smell herself everywhere._  
_

_Don't forget, Els. He likes it too._

* * *

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a/n how you doing? i would love to read your reviews! thank you! and thank you kouw for beta awesomeness!


	127. Chapter 127

She could smell herself everywhere.

_Don't forget, Els. He likes it too._

* * *

If she'd had any uncertainty about her own scent, his enthusiasm would have banished it. She'd banished her own doubts one night in his pantry, watching as she made love to herself with a candle.

_Good god, he __loves_ _it._

She was moaning, whispering words he couldn't understand.

Her voice was intoxicating, her tongue curling over those consonants as his tongue curled against her.

She writhed, grasping, twisting the sheets. He breathed rapidly, but his concentration prevented any other vocalizations.

_The heat of his mouth _— in rising ecstasy, her hand flew from her breast. Aimless, it landed on her forehead. Her back arched, she rocked against him and he _stayed_ _with_ her and he was _not stopping._

His touch, his _hands_ — heavy, hot, rough and tender all at once. Sliding up her belly, her ribcage, kneading her breasts, rolling the nipples.

She was glorious. Her thighs up around his ears, then falling open, and he looked up at her just as she was wrapping _both_ wrists in her long hair, holding on tight.

He paused.

His curiosity at the sight of those restrained hands. A motionless half-second that she almost didn't notice.

She _did_ notice. She curled up just a touch, gave him a drugged look through her eyelashes. He actually _winked_ at her before his eyes drifted closed again.

Her light laugh turned into a breathy moan because here was his _mouth_, oh _god, _oh _fuck, _he was pressing gently into her, insistently touching every part of her. Sucking at her. Teasing, licking. Experimentally pressing and releasing. His chin, _oh lord, how can his __chin__ do this to me?_ — with delicious pressure, opening her, pressing harder and he experimentally turned from side to side —

"Ow!"

_Damn facial hair. Damn it straight to _—

He stopped immediately, breaking contact and looking up at her.

She was frantic, muttering an explanation, wanting to beg for him not to stop touching her.

"It was just — it was your stubble, love."

Neither was sure what to do next. He wiped his face and gave her a grin that was half-joy, half-nerves.

He started to lower his face to her again, but she stopped him with a tiny shake of her head. She beckoned him toward her, her face unreadable.

He didn't know whether he he was allowed to kiss her with her taste on his lips.

* * *

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a/n how are you? i love your reviews; they give me LIFE.  
thank you kouw for beta magic! thank you everyone for all the love! xoxoxo


	128. Chapter 128

Neither was sure what to do next. He wiped his face and gave her a grin that was half-joy, half-nerves.

He started to lower his face to her again, but she stopped him with a tiny shake of her head. She beckoned him toward her, her face unreadable.

He didn't know whether he he was allowed to kiss her with her taste on his lips.

* * *

So he didn't kiss her.

He pulled back slightly when she reached for him. She frowned a little.

She sat up away from him, knees bent, pulling the sheet over her. The early orange-pink light was brightening to warm yellow, shining on her hair, on her flushed skin. She took his breath away.

"Charlie, what's wrong?"

"I just thought — erm, you wouldn't want to … to taste, you know... "

Her embarrassment. _Oh shite oh lord he __doesn't_ _like it as much as I thought _—

She looked hurt, averting her eyes. He rushed to fix it, words falling out of his mouth —

"Oh no, my Elsie — what — wait, come back to me, darling. Please."

He lifted her chin with gentle fingers.

She met his eyes and looked away, blinking back tears.

"You don't like it. That's why you think I don't want to taste it." She knew it couldn't be true, but it was her fear and she had to let it out.

His eyes widened in shock. His words were a vehement rush, bringing her tears of relief.

"Wha — you think I don't _like _— Els — I — I _love_ it. How could you think that? I _love_ it. I've dreamed of this for — for weeks. _Months."_

Shaking her head, wide-eyed, she reached for him. Her hands pulling him on top of her as she slid down onto her back again. She kissed him once. Kissed him again, deeply.

Her mind reeled at that first taste of herself on his lips. He tasted of himself and her _scent_, and something even more. Like her fingers… like everything. Something even deeper, somehow. It was _delicious_.

Somewhere in the back of her mind she wondered if it were strange to think of her own body that way, but she didn't _care_, not with him caressing her, kneading her breast again, giving her his short deep moans.

He broke their kiss, looking into her eyes.

"If I go shave —"

"Right _now? _Are you _joking_?" At his wounded look, she pulled him against her, kissing him hard.

His low hum as she plundered his mouth.

His strong, hot hand running down her body, cupping her sex. She immediately arched into him with a great moan, her thighs falling open.

They broke the kiss, gasping for air.

"Can I…"

"Yes, Charlie, whatever it is, yes, just do it, please touch me, god yes —"

His fingers opened her up, slowly unwrapping the treasure of her sex, dipping inside, and she gasped, moaning, begging him for more and he gave it to her, two fingers inside, his palm moving against her.

His voice, humming, soft deep velvet. Rumbling through her chest as he took her nipple into his mouth.

Sucking, nipping, pressing. He tormented her with pleasure, but he was still moving downward.

Kissing her hip, her thigh, his fingers still gently inside her.

He curled them just so — as his other hand parted her and he took her clitoris into his mouth. Careful not to scratch her with his stubble, he sucked gently on her, stroking his tongue over and around it, driving sounds from her that he'd never heard before. Some of it was Gaelic, some incoherent. Some English, and he strained to make it out. She was crying out under her breath —

"_God yes mo gradh mo ghaol, you're __everywhere__, what are you doing to me _—"

He moaned, deep and long.

"_F-fuck, _Charlie, _yes _—"

Her brogue — _her_ _words__, good god _— drove him further, and he wished he could say something in return but instead he moaned into her again. She'd never told him yet how much she loved his voice — even in the most ordinary settings, he was capable of making tenderness and desire course through her body.

His voice vibrating through her sex sent her straight over the edge.

Her climax surprised her; whimpers turned to soft, trembling screams. Her back arched, pressing her sex into him. Her hands strained against her hair, unwrapped themselves from it. One hand flew to her breast, the other to her mouth. She bit down on her palm, not to keep quiet but to enjoy the pain of it, the extreme contrast with the pleasure he inflicted on her with mouth and hands.

He stilled his movements and made to move away, but her hand, gentle on his head, stopped him.

"Please … stay for a little while, right there."

He gave a little sound, a short affirmation of "mm-hmm" that made her arch again, sucking air in through her teeth.

His fingers twitched inside her and she curled into it.

He adored her. Her scent all around him, her slick heat against him, around him. He still caressed her with his tongue, slowly, making her shake as she came down. Jagged, ecstatic aftershocks that made her breath hitch, made her sex tighten and release around his fingers.

* * *

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a/n thank you for reading. please leave a review if you have a moment! i love reading your responses! thank you so much. and thank you kouw!


	129. Chapter 129

He adored her. Her scent all around him, her slick heat against him, around him. He still caressed her with his tongue, slowly, making her shake as she came down. Jagged, ecstatic aftershocks that made her breath hitch, made her sex tighten and release around his fingers.

* * *

She stopped his movements with a light touch on his head.

Her quick intake of breath as his mouth left her. She exhaled on a long, gasping moan as he gently, _so slowly_, pulled his fingers out of her. She shook with it, her sex missing his touch, wanting him to —

"Come to me now, my man, come into me, come fill me." Her voice a breathless purr. Desperation and seduction in one.

Shocked — thrilled — at her boldness, he looked her in the eye. Either he looked uncertain or he was taking too long, because she called out to him —

"I want you inside me, right now, _please _—" Her voice rose, shaking, pleading.

_Her wanton words. For me, she wants __me_. He shook his head in near-disbelief.

"Charlie —" It was a whimper; she sounded near tears.

She _was_ near tears. Nothing dreadful. Just ecstasy, release, the sudden feeling of emptiness after he'd withdrawn his fingers. The _wanting_, the _need._

He quickly moved up her body, covering her with kisses.

She opened up for him and guided him. She screamed softly — such _pleasure, _nearly _unbearable _— when he pushed and slid fully into her.

His deep sounds of pleasure when he was inside her, and those _thoughts_, those _thoughts_ he used to hate himself for, now strong and loving and real and — _good god, she's so wet _— _so warm, no, hot _— _her cunt oh Christ oh fuck _— and he lost track of words entirely.

She caressed and embraced him with every part of her. Her arms around his neck, his shoulders. Her hands through his hair as they kissed, her legs tight around him. Her sex around his. Contracting. Releasing. Holding him inside her heat.

His _hardness_. _Stretching _her, his pulse so very _alive, _and him so _completely_ inside her. She did cry now, tears of release and joy and fulfillment.

Her silken voice. "Mmmmmmh, don't move." He kept still inside her, feeling her tighten and release around him as she continued to come down from her orgasm.

* * *

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a/n. omg thank you kouw for beta awesomeness! thank you, everyone who reads and reviews! please drop me a line if you have a minute. MWAH!


	130. Chapter 130

She caressed and embraced him with every part of her. Her arms around his neck, his shoulders. Hands through his hair as they kissed, legs tight around him. Her sex around his. Contracting. Releasing. Holding him inside her heat.

His _hardness_. _Stretching _her, his pulse so very _alive, _and him so _completely_ inside her. She did cry now, tears of release and joy and fulfillment.

Her silken voice. "Mmmmmmh, don't move." He kept still inside her, feeling her tighten and release around him as she continued to come down from her orgasm.

* * *

Every involuntary movement of her internal muscles around his hardness made her whimper, trembling, holding him as close as she could.

He was in heaven. Motionless. Buried to the _hilt_ in her. The very idea of it made him jerk, inadvertently pushing even deeper.

She gasped in response, drawing him down to her for a bruising kiss.

When she broke the kiss, her voice was both commanding and pleading.

"Come here, my man."

He paused, wiping her tears away.

"Are you alright?" He smiled as he asked. His eyebrows raised, his face so _open_. Wanting certainty even as they were joined so very closely.

"_Yes_, Charlie." Her brilliant smile in their sunlit room. "I love you. I'm alright, darling. So much more than alright _ohhhhh _—"

He braced himself on his elbows, inches above her. Their chests together, breath mingling, then his mouth on her neck, her ear, whispering as best he could with that voice.

"I want to —"

She thrilled to the sound of his voice, to the fact of him _talking_ to her that way _right then, _while they were _right there _—

Her urgent whisper. "Yes, my love, please, please tell me."

"I want you."

"I'm all yours. I'm yours, I'm yours, take me —"

"I want your — Oh Els oh _god yes oh my f-fuck _what are you doing to me, woman —"

She had let go with her legs to brace her feet against the mattress and now she was was moving against him, rolling her hips, rising to take him further in, sinking into the bed to let him slide out, but only just.

"Tell me what you want, Charlie." Her voice shook.

"I want _this_, my love, _you_, to be inside you —"

Her arms strong around him, her nails digging into his shoulder.

He pulled out, only enough to thrust back into her. Deeply, richly. Filling her over and over.

"Yes yes, please yes, oh my _god_, Charlie —"

They moved so _slowly_ — savoring each other as if they would never have this again.

The heat, the solidity, the _realness_ of him. Her soft screams, his deep groans every time he moved within her. Every stroke bringing them closer to the edge.

The push and pull and slide of them together.

Her legs floated in the air. Uncontrolled sounds from her throat. Gaelic, English, long ecstatic moans with every deep thrust, every slow retreat.

He held her tightly in his arms and she wrapped her legs around him again, nothing moving but their hips as they clasped one another.

Rocking together. Pushing. Pulling. For a single moment, the only sound in the room was their ragged breath, and then she shook and keened and came undone around him.

"Oh my god fu-u-uck ye-e-e-esss —"

And as her sex convulsed around him, he pressed deep into her. Slow strokes —rhythmic, incessant — prolonged her orgasm and she cried out to him, knowing it would be incredible unbearable excruciating pleasure —

"Please, Charlie, _now_ — faster — harder _please_ ye-e-es yes yes yes —" her screams, hissing affirmations, begging —

And he gave it to her. Thrusting in and out. Faster, harder, just as she asked wanted _needed_, finding a driving rhythm and soon she was screaming, coming again — and it was not to be believed, it was mythical, he was coming _with her_. Both of them gasping, shouting their ecstasy in the privacy of their own shared room. Her strong fingers clutching his shoulder, his hand at the back of her head. They kissed, shaking, desperate for contact as they were completely overcome.

One last thrust, their bodies pressing hard together. He fell on top of her as gently as he could, her legs tight around him, her sex milking him. Her body welcoming him in every way. He started to pull away — he didn't want to crush her — but she held him close.

Petting his head. Stroking his shoulders, his back. Cupping his bum, feeling him soften inside her. His delicious weight on her.

He wrapped his arms even tighter around her and with a few words in her ear he rolled them over.

She lay on top of her big man. As he pulled out of her, she shivered, enjoying the odd — _warm wet intimate erotic_ — sensation of his seed dribbling out of her.

He fumbled for the blankets; she reached blindly for them, and together they pulled them up. Gently, softly, she fell asleep on his chest.

* * *

a/n thanks for reading! how are you doing, darling? please leave me a review if you have a moment . i love your reviews! you too, dear guest reviewers to whom i wish i could respond! xoxo  
and as always, thanks so much to my wonderful beta, kouw!


	131. Chapter 131

She lay on top of her big man. As he pulled out of her, she shivered, enjoying the odd — _warm wet intimate erotic_ — sensation of his seed dribbling out of her.

He fumbled for the blankets; she reached blindly for them, and together they pulled them up. Gently, softly, she fell asleep on his chest.

* * *

Tears in his ears and no way to dry them, what with his arms around his Elsie.

He freed one hand and wiped them away, smiling.

_My Elsie._

He fought against sleep to experience the warm weight of her. Her softness. Her sleeping innocence (_good god, Charlie, you're such a romantic_).

He was, and he knew it._ A sentimental old fool,_ he thought with a grin.

Her hair spilled across his chest. He took a lock of it and wrapped it around his finger, unwound it, letting it slide between his fingertips. He wound it up again and brought it to his lips.

_Twisted_ _round my finger._

He suppressed a chuckle, not wanting to wake her.

_Usually it's the other way round_.

He inhaled.

_Everything smells like her. How's that for sleeping innocence, you old goat?_

The harder he tried not to laugh, the worse it got. He admonished himself, without venom, without any real shame. Thoughts rushed through his head.

—_ don't wake her, good god, you silly man, laughing for the joy of it, can't believe this is real, she's asleep on me , she's let me taste her and she loves me she loves me she loves me —_

More tears in his ears. It tickled and he jerked slightly, causing her to stir.

She lifted her head, gave him a sweet smile, and hummed her contentment as she shifted to lie by his side.

"Oh, but I miss you, way over there." His deep voice was a caress.

She was stretching her limbs, ignoring the cracking sounds in her joints. She turned back to him.

"You miss me? Could you even breathe with me sleeping on top of you?"

"Darling, as much as you take my breath away, I can _only _breathe when you're with me."

_Her _breath caught in her throat. Unable to speak, she rose up on her hand, looking at him for any sign of teasing. Instead, she saw the traces of his tears.

He looked back at her, his heart inexplicably pounding. He asked himself what he was afraid of, but he had no answer.

_So exposed. So much feeling. I've cracked open and it's all rushing out. She'll break me, I'll crumble at her feet and I'll be lost._

But he _trusted_ her, he _knew_ she wouldn't break him. Knew his heart was safe in her strong hands.

She smiled slowly, brought her hand to cup his face. She dried his tears, then touched his lower lip with her thumb.

He closed his eyes, kissed her thumb.

His voice soft, he told her, "I love it when you do that."

She looked at him with those incredible eyes and smiled, happy for the freedom to show him what was in her heart.

"I love you, Charlie Carson. And you ought to know that you take _my_ breath away too."

* * *

a/n... Goobers. They kill me. Here's hoping we get something like this tomorrow!

Please leave me a review if you have a moment. I appreciate them so much! Thank you, everyone. And thank you to kouw, my wonderful beta!


	132. Chapter 132

She looked at him with those incredible eyes and smiled, happy for the freedom to show him what was in her heart.

"I love you, Charlie Carson. And you ought to know that you take _my_ breath away too."

* * *

He smiled and pulled at her, wanting her on top of him again. She went willingly, resting her chin on her hands to look at him. Thanks to the pillows beneath him, he could easily look back at her.

"You are so beautiful, Charlie."

He rolled his eyes with a little smile.

"You flatter me."

"No."

_Her voice is so soft._

He looked at her, not knowing what to say.

"You're magnificent."

He scoffed; he actually _scoffed_ at her words, even though there was no hint of mockery in her face, and it made her laugh. Her body curved and shook with it.

"Your mouth is so expressive. Your lips are soft, and your — oh Lord, I shouldn't have started with your mouth!" She blushed furiously.

His eyebrows flew up. His eyes were wide and he had a shocked grin.

"Elsie Hughes, you little minx!'

"Carson."

He went mock-serious, raising one eyebrow, but his question was only half in jest.

"Are you calling me 'Carson' now? Seems about right, Milady. I live to please you — "

She wrinkled her nose, gave one short syllable of laughter.

"You delightful man. No, I was simply correcting the way you address me." Her tone was mock-serious as well, an audible smile winding through it.

The way she said "correcting" and "address" distracted him for a moment. Rolled r's, long drawn-out e's.

"But I don't mind that you call me Mrs Hughes sometimes. Or Elsie Hughes, even. It reminds me of all our years together. Some good, some difficult, but always — well, _steady,_ I suppose."

He reached for one of her hands and folded it in his own.

She smiled at him, kissed his hand, and lay her head down on him, her face turned to one side. She listened to his strong heartbeat.

"But you've always been beautiful to me."

"Hmmm." His hum was skeptical. It rumbled through her, to her delight.

"I'll tell you why. A thousand little things. Your eyes —"

"Hidden away under these eyebrows, yes?"

"Shh. Don't interrupt me, Charlie," she said, tapping a finger on his chest. His quiet laugh rumbled through his chest.

"Besides, I love those eyebrows. They can express so much. They're — what's the word... _prodigious."_

He chuckled and started to massage her neck gently with one hand, running the fingers of his other hand over her hair.

"Oh my, and your hands. But I wanted to talk about your eyes. There's a ring of brown in the middle and they're grey around the outside. It can be hard to see the color of them when you're being serious. But they can express irritation and thunder, and such tenderness and — and desire," she blushed again, saying it out loud, "that you make me go weak in the knees."

"Oh, my love." He wanted to — what? stop her? encourage her? He wasn't certain.

"And that voice, mo ghaol."

"Hmmm?"

"Your voice does things to me I can't even describe."

He held her close, feeling equally self-conscious and flattered.

* * *

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a/n: hi lovely! Please leave me a review if you have a moment. Many thanks! And big thanks to kouw always!


	133. Chapter 133

"And that voice, mo ghaol..."

"Hmmm?"

"Your voice does things to me I can't even describe."

He held her close, feeling equally self-conscious and flattered.

* * *

"Does it?"

"It does, mo gràdh."

"Hmmm..."

"Now you're doing it on purpose."

"I might be. Who knows?"

"I never guessed you would be so..."

She drummed her fingers lightly on him, squeezed the hand that held hers.

"So..." His rumble made her smile; he had perfectly imitated her cadence and pronunciation, exactly an octave lower than her voice. She thought of his past on the stage.

"So ... Playful, I suppose."

"Oh..." He ran his fingers through her hair again. Winding his way along the shining locks, pausing to press it to his lips again. His other hand stroked up and down her back.

"I think one could attribute that at least partially to relief, my dear."

"Relief?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry to have given you such a fright."

"It's alright." He chuckled. "It's far better than alright, my love."

"Good." She sighed deeply and pressed a kiss to his chest. "And the rest?"

"Hmm?"

"You said your playfulness was partially relief."

"Oh. Right. Well — the rest is just the joy of being with you, I suppose."

Her breath caught in her throat. She looked up at him. Her smile was bright; there were tears in her eyes. He brought the backs of his fingers to caress her cheek, nodded in response to the bewilderment in her eyes.

"I love you."

"I — I love you too, Charles. Sometimes I think I'm going to wake up alone in my bed in the attics. Like this was all a dream."

"Oh, I know that feeling." He could smile; they could smile, knowing (_accepting believing_) that it was real.

She kissed his chest again and lay her head back down on him.

"So, my beautiful man, I was going to tell you about how much I love your hands."

"Oh dear…"

"Shhhh."

"Hmmm."

Her body curved into him with her quiet laugh.

"I tell you, that voice, my dear." And she shook her head against him. "But your hands — your hands are very beautiful to me. They are strong and gentle. They've handled the most delicate glass and polished strong silver a thousand times over. They're hands that have worked so hard, and now they get to rest. To do the things _you_ want to do."

She lifted her head and reached for his hand. She looked at it, tracing the lines and veins, then kissed it and lay her face just below it, her hand covering his.

Her voice grew softer; she spoke almost shyly.

"And when you touch me with those hands … you make me feel like — like a treasure."

He was deeply moved and unsure what to say, so he only hummed in response. Immediately he felt it was not enough of a response, because he felt her tense against him.

She began to feel a little embarrassed by her flowery words.

* * *

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a/n she's usually a little more guarded, n'est-ce pas? oh noes, what could happen next?


	134. Chapter 134

"Elsie? What is it?"

"I — oh, nothing."

"You seem... upset suddenly. Is something wrong?"

"Just — all this flanneling. Surely you don't want to hear all of this."

"Oh, my love. My darling girl."

She scoffed at him calling her that.

He pulled the blankets snug around them and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close and kissing the top of her head.

He spoke slowly and softly.

"You said that I make you feel like a treasure when I touch you. You _are _a treasure. You're more precious by far than any of the fine things I used to handle." He shook his head, his brow knit together. "There isn't even a comparison. Surely you don't doubt that?"

"Well, no…"

"Are you … are you embarrassed about what you've said?"

She hesitated.

"Because I hope you aren't. It's, er, quite a new thing, being told I'm beautiful. But —" and he tried to draw her back, away from the urge to disappear, to curl up and keep quiet — "your telling me those things is … well, it's _wonderful._"

She took a deep breath, let it out slowly.

"And I would be remiss if I didn't tell you, " he intoned, "that — just for example — I love your voice as well."

She frowned skeptically, tucking her chin as she lay on his chest.

"Oh no, Mrs Hughes," he said, deliberately drawing out the 'z' sounds in her name just a bit, "it's only fair that I get to tell you the beautiful things about you as well."

She sighed, half nervous, half relieved, and listened to the caress of his voice.

* * *

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a/n thanks for reading! please drop me a line if you have a moment! thank you! and thank you kouw as always, and chelsiefan and ojbf3 for PM conversations tonight! MWAH


	135. Chapter 135

"And I would be remiss if I didn't tell you, " he intoned, "that — just for example — _I_ love _your_ voice as well."

She frowned skeptically, tucking her chin as she lay on his chest.

"Oh no, Mrs Hughes," he said, deliberately drawing out the 'z' sounds in her name just a bit, "it's only fair that I get to tell you the beautiful things about you as well."

She sighed, half nervous, half relieved, and listened to the caress of his voice.

* * *

She could both hear and feel it and she let it wash over her. The odd thing was that he was saying things she'd never dreamed of even wishing to hear from him. Her stoic butler. Her impossible, lovely man, afraid of change.

"I _love_ your voice, Mrs Hughes. Elsie." He laughed a little, pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "It's rather a thrill to say these things to you as Mrs Hughes. A bit terrifying, I must say —"

"Why is that?" she asked, resting her chin on her hands again and looking up at him with a nervous smile. "You're afraid the stern housekeeper will give you the evil eye and send you to start the fires and scrub the floors?"

He laughed. "_No_, my love. It's because Mrs Hughes is my friend, my colleague, the woman I worked with for all those years and then fell desperately in love with. Now, will you please let me tell you how lovely you are?"

She had been staring at him, wide-eyed, eyebrows up, holding her breath. Now she looked away with a little sigh, worrying her lip.

He looked at her in shock.

"You don't believe it!" He was smiling, though it honestly made him rather sad.

"Och, Charlie…" Her tone was somehow both pleading and dismissive. Elsie, struggling to accept such flattering truths. Mrs Hughes, brooking no nonsense.

"Well..." He rolled them, gently laying her on her back next to him. "I'll tell you anyway."

She turned toward him instead, covering herself a little.

He hesitated, then shrugged, not wanting to push her _too_ much.

"Oh, but I'm cold now, Charlie." Her little smile.

"You want to come back?"

"Erm, will you —" and she turned her back to him, pulling his arm around her.

_I'll try to listen, my lovely man. But I need a little _— _something. Distance. Space. Och I don't know. _

He understood and he wrapped himself around her.

"That's better, love. Thank you."

"Can you bear to listen to it now?"

"I think so, yes." He savored the little ironic smile in her voice, even though the self-deprecating note of her response tore at his heart.

"Do you remember this morning when you asked me if I like your accent?"

"Yes…" She sounded suspicious.

"And I told you I like your _everything._"

"Yes, you silly man."

He gasped. _This is going to be more difficult than I thought._

* * *

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a/n she's being really difficult. drop me a line if you have time, please! thanks, lovely people! xoxo!  
and thank you always to kouw!


	136. Chapter 136

**today's updates started at 135. xoxo**

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* * *

"Do you remember this morning when you asked me if I like your accent?"

"Yes…" She sounded suspicious.

"And I told you I like your _everything._"

"Yes, you silly man."

He gasped. _This is going to be more difficult than I thought_

* * *

_Els, stop deflecting him. Stop it. _

"I'm sorry, love. This is very hard to listen to, when we're not —"

"In the bathtub?"

She gasped too. Then she laughed helplessly. "Yes, in the bathtub. Everything is easier in the bathtub. Well, maybe not everything —"

She blushed again, but he couldn't see it; he only felt her tense a little.

"I know you're being sarcastic, my darling, but, erm, do you think we should — ahem — take a bath together?"

"I wasn't being sarcastic, love, and I like your suggestion."

She turned in his arms, relieved to have a delay before having to listen to...

_...listen to __what__, Els? What could be so bad about him telling you he loves you?_

_It's difficult._

_I know it's difficult. _

_Ugh._

"But I think we need some sustenance, mo gràdh."

"I do need to keep my strength up."

"Charlie!" She blushed like mad.

"And so do you." He grinned wickedly at her.

She let out one nervous syllable of laughter, looking at him wide-eyed.

He could worry and trouble himself about this, but he was frankly in no mood for such gloom.

He still had her glorious scent on him, she'd told him amazing things he was beginning to believe might be true, and his woman was going to join him in the tub, where he would take all the time necessary to convince her — _with words, mind, it's been quite the morning already, you old goat _— of how very lovely she was.

"Right. Breakfast." And he kissed her soundly, briefly — _oh my god he still tastes like me of course he does _— and got up. Pulling on his dressing gown, he rounded the bed and kissed her shoulder before striding out of the room.

She turned her head to watch him go, smiling. Then she sighed, frowning at herself a bit as she tugged the blankets around her self. She curled up for a moment, trying to puzzle out _why_ it was so difficult to hear these things.

Then she took a deep breath, letting it out in a huff.

_Oh Els. Just give it a try, instead of gathering wool about how hard it is and why._

She rolled her eyes at herself and cast about for her dressing gown.

As she sat up, her hair tumbled around her. Over her shoulders, down her back. She pushed it out of her face, letting it fall over one shoulder. Its auburns and dark browns and well-earned silver strands were lit up by the warm sunlight in their room.

The angle of the light caught her deep blue eyes. It shone on her cheekbones and the curve of her lip. She stood and the light caressed the swell of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the roundness of her hips.

She noticed none of this as she wrapped herself up and left the room.

* * *

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**a/n. **

and they finally got out of bed again  
poor els, she's so hard on herself. it's gonna be okay, elsie love.  
anyhoo, **hi lovely readers! thanks** for your reviews! please drop me a line if you have a minute! thanks! thank you **guest reviewer(s)** to whom i wish i could respond!  
thank you **lemacd** for a comment that made so much sense to me that i now i'm gonna to riff on it for evarrrr. (or at least for a few chapters). thank you **kouw** for being my beta. MWAH


	137. Chapter 137

**today's first update was 135. xoxox**

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* * *

She rolled her eyes at herself and cast about for her dressing gown.

As she sat up, her hair tumbled around her. Over her shoulders, down her back. She pushed it out of her face, letting it fall over one shoulder. Its auburns and dark browns and well-earned silver strands were lit up by the warm sunlight in their room.

The angle of the light caught her deep blue eyes. It shone on her cheekbones and the curve of her lip. She stood and the light caressed the swell of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the roundness of her hips.

She noticed none of this as she wrapped herself up and left the room.

* * *

He directed her to sit at the table, refusing her offers to help.

He made everything. Tea and toast, eggs and tomatoes.

"Thank you for this. It's lovely."

Her hair was in a loose braid over her shoulder and he itched to ask her about it. _Later. Later you can ask her about her hair and if she'll teach you to braid it._

"You're welcome, moy rah."

She wrinkled her nose and smiled at him, shaking her head.

"Not good?"

"In Argyll they'd have called you a Sassenach and no mistake."

"A Sassenach! Ha."

His pronunciation was perfect.

"What does it mean?"

"What do you _think_ it means?"

"Well, mo ghaol, I imagine it means something like a dumb ox of an Englishman."

His pronunciation was perfect _again_.

_Bizarre._

"That's about right, but...why... Why can you do that?"

"Is it strange, mo gràdh?"

She shook her head, blinking. Stared at him. "Very."

"Oooh, I love the way you roll your r's."

She nearly choked on her tea.

"Why?" She was wrinkling her nose again. _Irresistible._

"Do you want to know why I love the way you talk?"

"Erm, I suppose so, yes. Unless it's about me just being some charming foreigner, strange but tolerable."

"It's hard to hear you being so self-deprecating."

He suddenly sounded very serious.

She tutted. "Charlie, _that_ was just a joke."

"Still."

"Hmm."

"Well, _if you'll allow me _— I love the way you talk because … Well, there must be something of the exotic in there, I suppose, but it's really because it's _you._ No one else talks like you."

"That's for certain —" She stopped, seeing the frustration in his eyes. She waited, watching him. She bit back a smile. _Let him talk, Els._

He took a deep breath.

"Your rolled r's, your long e's. The way your d's sound sometimes — can you say "indeed" for me once?"

"Indeed."

"Ahh. Lovely."

"What are you on about?"

"The d at the end."

"Yes?"

"It sounds like a t."

"And this is… interesting to you?" She really did want to know, and he could hear the difference. Her responses were earnest.

"It is music to my ears." He leaned back in his chair and took a sip of tea as if it were fine wine.

"Well."

"Yes?" He drew it out, his voice like silk.

"Adorable man."

"Thank you."

"But how — why can you speak Gaelic?"

"Oh, I can't, darling, not really. It's just that, well, you know I have… a _past._" His voice deepened dramatically at the end. He cocked an eyebrow, smiling at her.

"What past is that?"

"On the stage, dearest."

"Yes, you sang and danced. I rather thought you wanted to forget that era of your life..."

"And juggled, and did impersonations."

"_What_?"

"I did indeett."

"Oh lord, I've created a monster." She rolled her eyes in mock exasperation. "Heavens! What am I going to do with this man?"

"What _are_ you going to do with me?"

"_I _am going to take a bath. _You_ can leave me in peace for a few moments, and then join me. Ten minutes, and you can figure out what new wickedness to perpetrate with your mouth."

He grinned and her eyes went wide. "With your _words. _Words. I mean your words, you horrible man!"

Flustered, she could not but laugh. She batted away his hands as he reached for her. "I love you, now let me be! But kiss me first."

They stole one kiss before she fled to the bathroom.

* * *

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a/n 1: Mrs Carson is quoting from the 1831 version of Mary Shelley's _Frankenstein, or The Modern Prometheus_.  
a/n 2: sdlksahlsdkjhlfkh they are too much fun to write! let me know if you like this or if it's too over the top! these goobers!  
a/n 3: thank you for all the love, dear readers! xoxoxo!


	138. Chapter 138

**n.b. today's first update was 135. xoxo**

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* * *

She turned off the water and checked the looking glass. She'd taken out the braid and rather loosely pinned her hair up. It was not tidy, exactly, but it would do. It would stay out of the bathwater, anyway.

She smiled a little at her reflection.

_Pretty_.

She knew she was. But for some reason, hearing it was uncomfortable. She had trouble resisting the urge to protect herself with an unassailable front of sternness and quick responses.

_Old habits_.

She sighed, turning away from the glass, worrying her lip.

_He likes my brogue._

_He can imitate_ _Gaelic. How on earth has he kept that hidden all these years?_

She knew how. His training and self-discipline were impeccable.

_And _— _juggling?_ _I would love to see that._

She grinned just as he knocked at the door.

A second passed.

The dear man was waiting for her response.

"Come in," she called softly.

He opened the door, his eyebrows rising slightly when he set eyes on her. He looked wonderfully gentle. He smiled; she smiled shyly back.

"Are you alright in here?"

"Yes. Come in, and close the door, else you'll let the heat out."

He did, and he stood behind her as they both turned to the looking glass.

"Beautiful." She could feel his voice against her back.

He wrapped his arms protectively around her shoulders. She closed her eyes, hummed her satisfaction as he kissed the apple of her cheek. He felt her smile.

She was undoing her belt and he slipped her dressing gown off her shoulders.

"Mmm, I love this spot right here —" and he kissed her just below her ear, before turning away, quickly taking off his own dressing gown, and hanging them both up.

"And I love this spot here —" and he kissed her shoulder. "Shall we?"

"Mmhmm."

He got into the tub first, then she sat in front, carefully nestling into him. His long legs framing her, he extended his arms under hers and they laced their fingers together. She leaned her head back against his chest.

"So."

"Hmm?"

"I fear this may make you slightly uncomfortable, but I want to make it clear that your accent is the most enticing sound I've ever heard in my life."

"Oh my."

"Yes."

"Erm… thank you?"

"Yes, 'thank you' is an acceptable answer to that."

She laughed softly, tilting her head against him, and he took the opportunity to kiss her ear, tucking a lock of hair behind it.

"I love your hair like this."

"You do?"

"Yes. Your hair is beautiful no matter what you do with it, but like this — loose and soft — it's a dream come true."

"You flatter me, Charlie. It's half grey and it's —"

"No."

"But —"

"No."

She sighed. "Alright."

"You'll just have to believe me, Elsie. You are a beautiful woman. Stunning. And the silver in your hair is — you've _earned_ it. It's part of you. It's beautiful and — you are like a fine wine, my love."

"You would know." Her soft tone made him smile.

"Yes, I would." His voice in her ear made her shiver, even though (_don't kid yourself, Els, it's also because_) the tone was exactly that of the perfect butler. Deep, velvety, commanding.

She turned her head to listen to his heart. Loved it. Its strong and steady beat reminded her that this was all real.

"I wonder —"

She was enjoying these sensations too much to do anything but hum in answer. But he could see her smile when she turned her head. She was becoming flushed from the heat. In the steam, wisps of her hair curled gently against her neck.

"You are so beautiful." His voice caught; he was overwhelmed. But he had to ask her.

"Thank you, mo gràdh."

Inwardly he rejoiced at her simple response.

"I wonder, ahem — would you ever" — and his voice dropped nearly to a whisper — "let me wash your hair?"

She stopped herself from expressing any of the doubts that rushed to her mind. Took a deep breath. Exhaled, letting those glum thoughts go.

His tone brought a quiver to her voice when she told him yes, surprised by her hammering heart and the shake in her hand when she took out the first pin.

* * *

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a/n. can we please have this happen in canon? please? oh gods, to see them snuggled up together. squeeeeeee...  
**please please leave me a review; i loooove them! thank you, everyone who has been reading and reviewing! you are wonderful!  
**Xoxo


	139. Chapter 139

The lush weight of her hair falling around her, covering his hands that rested on her shoulders.

He collected her pins, dropped them onto the rug in a careful little pile.

_Reverent_.

The word flew through her mind as he slowly lifted her hair and kissed from her shoulder to her neck.

"Thank you," he murmured against her flushed skin.

"Hmm?" She felt wonderfully drugged. His scent all around her, their bodies warm together.

"For this."

A pause. She felt as if her pounding heart would create its own ripples in the water.

"You're welcome. Thank _you,_" she whispered.

_She's accepting this. Thank god, she's letting it in. Letting me love her._

"It is my pleasure."

He inhaled. Heady coconut fragrance and the deeper scents of _her. _Her skin. Her hair. Her intoxicating sex, faintly lingering.

He luxuriated in her hair. Twisted his fingers through it, playing at braiding it though he didn't quite know how.

Her eyes fell closed.

He gathered her hair, kissed it, and draped it over her shoulder. Then he took the soap and worked up a bit of lather.

The heat and pressure of his hands, the slide of soapy skin on skin.

The sight of his big hands on her pale freckled shoulders.

Strong and nimble fingers working out the tension in her muscles. Her head bowed forward, her body rocking gently back and forth with the push and pull of his hands.

Then his warm hands caressing her scalp. Pleasurable chills as he slid his thumbs over her temples.

She shivered; he wrapped himself more tightly around her for a moment. Warming her. She hummed her contentment.

Wonderful unfamiliar sensations. He gently pushed her head to lean forward, cradling her forehead and massaging her neck.

Her quiet moans made him prouder than he could have imagined.

_Gorgeous_.

He kissed her shoulder; she leaned into it.

He pulled her gently, resting his chin on the crown of her head as she leaned back against his chest.

His voice was soft as he asked if she used this pitcher and that shampoo. Yes, yes. The coconut one, of course; he didn't really need to ask.

She tilted her head back, smiling sweetly as he slowly poured the first warm water over her hair.

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**a/thank you for reading! i hope you liked this chapter. it was like pulling teeth! thank you kissman and chelsiefan and lemacd and kouw and everyone! MWAH**


	140. Chapter 140

a/n This took a long time to update (sorry!) because it felt like I was writing the same thing over and over and over again, writing him washing her hair. I bored myself! So, after days of percolating, this happened. I would love to know what you think of it! Xoxo

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* * *

He had seen her washing her hair before.

Weeks before they'd ever been in the tub together, he'd dared pop in for his toothbrush while she was in the bath. He had stood transfixed, failing in his attempt not to watch.

She'd made her hair clean with efficient, brusque movements.

Conceptually, he knew what to do. He knew to wet all of her hair before putting the shampoo in. How to lather soap in one's hair — it was simple. Of course he did it himself with his bar of soap.

He hadn't known that the coconut shampoo would flow fast and cold into his cupped palm, or that he would instinctively warm the liquid between his hands before bringing them to her head.

A thousand times he'd imagined slowly working his fingers through her hair, smoothing it back from her forehead, massaging her scalp.

But he hadn't imagined she might make the little sounds of pleasure he was hearing now. Never pictured the way she would lean her head into his hand, her heavy hair falling to the side. How small she would seem, cradled between his legs. How vulnerable she would look, her neck and shoulder exposed, warm suds gliding down between her shoulderblades. The way the backs of his fingers would brush against the side of her neck and she would sigh with the simple pleasure of their loving touches.

He'd had no idea that he could kiss her shoulder, drink the pearls of water that lingered there when he'd carefully (_carefully, Charlie, don't get it in her eyes_) poured the water over her hair until it ran clear.

* * *

He'd got out of the bath before her, had a shave, and dithered a bit, deciding what to wear.

No protocol, no plan for this in a butler's training. The idea of it made him grin.

_The correct attire for the times after making love to one's wife in the French manner (and then in the usual manner), breakfasted, bathed with one's wife, and washed her hair._

That he felt desire again did not exactly surprise him, but the beginnings of his arousal did— _heavens, Charlie, and so soon after._

He shook his head.

In the end he'd got dressed, albeit without waistcoat or tie. He wore his sleeves rolled up to prevent them getting sooty.

She emerged from the bathroom wrapped in her dressing gown and sat down next to the fire that he'd built.

He'd moved through their home feeling strange — cold, hollowed out somehow — without her leaning into his chest.

His eyebrows shot up and his mouth opened slightly as she handed him her comb.

* * *

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a/n. Please leave me a review if you have a moment; they mean a lot to me. I am so behind on responding to them, and I apologize! Thank you so much to everyone who reads and reviews. You're pretty dang wonderful.

Thank you so very much, kouw, for your advice on this chapter!


	141. Chapter 141

In the end he'd got dressed, albeit without waistcoat or tie. He wore his sleeves rolled up to prevent them getting sooty.

She emerged from the bathroom wrapped in her dressing gown and sat down next to the fire that he'd built.

He'd moved through their home feeling strange — cold, hollowed out somehow — without her leaning into his chest.

His eyebrows shot up and his mouth opened slightly as she handed him her comb.

* * *

He had more than one reason to be glad of this chance to comb her hair.

For one, there was the loveliness of the act itself. Sliding the comb through her wet hair, gently working out the tangles. Watching as it slowly dried in the heat from the fireplace.

The second reason was that he was dressed in daytime clothing and she had her dressing gown on and as such they were not pressed naked together in warm water and he could form words.

He told her about her eyes.

"It took me a little while to realize they are blue. Dark blue. Very dark when we drank sherry at night. So dark, I thought they could be brown. Lighter, the thousand times we spoke in my pantry or your sitting room during daylight. Brighter yet in the sunshine by the sea."

"You've made a study of them." She spoke softly. Enjoying this. Letting it in at last.

"I have."

She turned to look at him, love in her eyes, and he _melted._ Took her hand and pulled her into him, his other hand at the back of her neck as he kissed her, tenderly, breaking away to kiss her eyelids, her cheek. He released her, gently, and she bit her lip.

"And your lips, my god, if you had any idea how your lips made me suffer this summer..."

"My lips?" Her voice cut out; her question turned to a whisper.

"Yes." He angled his body so they could see each other again. "I tried so hard not to stare at them. When you're thinking, when you're worried, you worry the bottom one. Yes, just like that!"

Flustered, she gasped, drew both lips into her mouth and looked at him helplessly.

He chuckled.

"They drove me to distraction," he said conversationally, turning back to her hair. Combing, laying it flat.

"Well. We both had a difficult summer, my love."

"Did you?"

"A bit, yes. I think you suffered more than I did, though."

"The man's burden."

She snorted. "What on earth do you mean?"

"I felt like an absolute cad."

* * *

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a/n hiiii lovelies! i've been SO remiss in not responding to reviews but be assured i love each and every little one! they're my glorious popcorn trail of deliciousness. so please drop me a line if you have a moment! thaaank you! xoxoxo

and thank you kouw always!


	142. Chapter 142

**n.b. today's first update is 141. xoxo!**

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* * *

"Well. We both had a difficult summer, my love."

"Did you?"

"A bit, yes. I think you suffered more than I did, though."

"The man's burden."

She snorted. "What on earth do you mean?"

"I felt like an absolute cad."

* * *

"Why?"

"Oh, Elsie. The things I imagined. And you have to remember, I didn't know you could —"

"Didn't know I could what?"

_She'll be the death of me with that tease in her voice._

"You know."

"Hmm?" She turned, looking at him innocently.

"Experience… erm. Pleasure. In such a way as to —"

_Poor man._

"You didn't know I could experience a— yes. Well."

_Climax. Orgasm. Bone-shaking pleasure when your mouth is on me, your fingers inside, or — h__eavens, this isn't easy._

She suppressed a giggle, blushing like mad.

"See? It's difficult to say. And you _laugh_, you wicked siren, you _laugh_ at my agony."

"I know, it _really_ is difficult! But — agony, this summer? Och, surely it wasn't as bad as all that."

"It was. Since I never thought you could... _enjoy_ it so, I felt downright lecherous. It was horrible." He shook his head, sighing heavily.

"My poor dear." Her gentle fingers caressed his cheek. "If only you knew the things _I_ imagined —"

Lost in his own remorse, he only half heard her.

"Do you remember the time I walked into your room in London?"

She paused. She hoped he didn't notice the slight stiffening of her shoulders.

"Vaguely." She hated lying to him. _Hated_ it. "Yes. I remember."

"I felt terrible. You were sleeping and I was so taken with you, with your hair in a braid —"

"Charlie, you don't have to worry about it." Her tone was high and strange and she knew it, but he didn't quite notice.

_Make him stop talking about that night. Stop. I am not ready for this conversation._

"It was such an intrusion, though."

_Oh you have no idea. Intrusion. Penetration, oh Els stop that right now —_

She'd never been so glad to be facing away from him. Her eyes widened, her eyebrows flying up at her own cheeky thoughts.

Fortunately, there was no shake in the deep breath that she took. She made sure of it. He interpreted the long inhalation as a sign of long-suffering patience with him.

He started to speak, but she finally interrupted him.

"I know it was a big intrusion for you. And that's why I was so touched — why I _am_ so touched— that you would be that worried about me. That you would cross that threshold in order to make sure I was alright." Finally she dared turn to him. He looked worried.

"No, I mean it." She could not keep her tone from sounding a little flustered. "That can't have been easy for you."

"It wasn't. But I —"

"Never mind, Charlie. It's forgotten." Her voice was soft. Her heart was pounding.

She smoothed the worry lines from his brow, kissed his forehead.

All at once her hair was dry enough and she took the comb from him, making quick work of parting and pinning it up.

* * *

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a/n aaaand we're back! I'd love to see a review from you! thank you for reading! and thank you kouw for being my beta, and chelsie fan for finding my typos too! yaasss


	143. Chapter 143

**n.b. today's first update was 141. xoxo**

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* * *

She smoothed the worry lines from his brow, kissed his forehead.

All at once her hair was dry enough and she took the comb from him, making quick work of parting and pinning it up.

* * *

She was relieved to walk away from that conversation. He was a little bit taken by surprise at the speed with which she was suddenly pinning her hair, cupping his cheek to give him another quick kiss on the forehead, and taking off to their bedroom to get dressed.

He sat by the fire, sipping his tea.

He looked up as she entered their sitting room.

Her dress was new.

He watched her pour her tea. Something else was different. Something in the way she moved. The way she leaned over, the shape of her body was different somehow and he couldn't place it.

He made room for her to join him on the settee. She sat next to him. Her delicious softness as she leaned against him.

He gave a start.

"Your corset!"

"Is gone, never to return."

She grinned; he blushed to have mentioned it at all.

She wanted to ask him what he thought, but she could see he was too flabbergasted just now.

_He'd probably say something he didn't mean._ _Best give it time._

He surprised her, sighing with pleasure as he snaked his hands around her waist.

"Lovely."

"Oh! I wasn't expecting _that_."

"You are lovely, though."

"Hah. Thank you, my man."

"Is it more comfortable?"

"It is, most certainly."

"What — what are you wearing under there?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

His sharp intake of breath at her boldness.

"Now, are we going for a walk out there or not?" She smiled at him, pulling on her gloves.

* * *

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these goobers... it's the corset chapter! Elsie is right sick of it. PL is sick of it. Bye bye, corset!

drop me a line if you have a minute — thank you!


	144. Chapter 144

"What — what are you wearing under there?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

His sharp intake of breath at her boldness.

"Now, are we going for a walk out there or not?" She smiled at him, pulling on her gloves.

* * *

They strolled together. Her hand in the crook of his elbow.

Elegant, refined. They walked through the village, nodding to acquaintances, stopping to chat briefly once, twice.

They were unaccustomed to being seen together. It was an unspoken reason why they had both wanted to go out — to emerge from their cocoon and assure themselves of the reality of it.

Secretly relieved, they saw themselves together. Reflected in shop windows and in the eyes of others.

They took tea and it was delightful. The cozy tearoom. Lovely little sandwiches. Perfect proportions of tea and milk and sugar, steaming in the afternoon sun.

The light came through the window at just the right slant to reveal his pulse to her. Tiny, steady, centered in the V between two bones, between his thumb and the back of his hand. She blinked away the strange biological intimacy of that sight. _Like seeing the inside of his body, like reading his thoughts_. It felt like some kind of unfair advantage.

They took tea and it was sweet torment. Her movements were more supple; he'd never seen anything like it before.

He held his teacup in the other hand and looked out the window. At the table. At anything but her. He tried to push his badly-timed thoughts away.

_Oh but you have, Charlie. You've seen her move that freely before. Whenever she doesn't have a corset on. In her dressing gown, kitchen, bedroom, bathroom — _he swallowed hard.

His pulse quickened. Visibly.

He cleared his throat. He looked up at her eyes, tracking them to his hand, wondering why she would look there so intently.

She caught his little frown and looked up at him, concern in her eyes turning to recognition, then a flash of desire, immediately concealed behind blinking innocence.

* * *

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a/n okay, I really will respond to these reviews someday soon, but in the meantime, won't you pretty please leave me more?  
thank you everyone who likes and reblogs and does all the lovely things on tumblr and here. and thank you kouw my beta extraordinaire (but any typos in here are thoroughly my responsibility).


	145. Chapter 145

She looked up at him, concern in her eyes turning to recognition, then a flash of desire, immediately concealed behind small smiles and blinking innocence.

* * *

There were things to do when they got home. Laundry to collect from the neighbor woman who'd taken it in. Dinner to warm. He carried the wash home and they put it away together. He built up the fire, then nipped back outside to clip roses for her.

She had just put the kettle on and she turned, smiling in surprise to see him with a rose stem in his mouth. _My lovely brave man._

"Is this a Cheerful Charlies act?"

"Maybe," he said around the stem. Then, wishing he'd thought to say it right away, "Wouldn't _you_ like to know?"

She gasped. "You've got a cheek on you!"

But her serious front crumbled at his smiling eyes and his ballroom pose. She stepped into his arms, inhaling the faint scent of his cologne.

His hand in hers, cold from the autumn air. A few steps into their waltz, she could feel the chill at the small of her back, through garments that suddenly felt thin. She stopped them with a soft laugh.

"As much as I love to dance with you, my dear, you must warm yourself by the fire before you touch me again."

She'd pulled his hand from her waist, but otherwise they stood as close together as before. Their hands clasped one another, still held mid-air.

"Can I touch you like this?" His voice lowered as he gathered her into him with his forearm, his cold hand held away, her back arching as her arm draped around his neck.

She kissed him, once, soundly. He dipped his head down to kiss her throat and she closed her eyes, melting into their embrace with a low hum.

Then she shooed him away. "Now, be off with you. Dinner will be ready soon."

"And just like that, you banish me to distant realms." His voice faded as he retreated to the sitting room.

She smiled, shaking her head, watching him go.

_With a rose in his mouth! Who would have imagined?_

* * *

All through dinner, he vehemently refrained from asking her about her new undergarments.

_It would be so __very_ _improper. Disrespectful, lewd — _

An argument between the butler and the lover went on in his head.

_Ask her. _

_Never. _

_Do it. _

_I can't. _

_You should._

_Absolutely not._

_I dare you._

His eyes flew wide open. He'd startled himself with the last one. Lucky for him, she was looking at her plate.

_Oh_, and how he _wanted_ to ask. He wanted her to tell him about them, describe them to him before slowly revealing them.

He kept his eyes above her neck.

She began to wonder if he disapproved.

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a/n what do you think? i'd love to hear from you! MWAH!


	146. Chapter 146

_Oh_, and how he _wanted_ to ask. He wanted her to tell him about them, describe them to him before slowly revealing them.

He kept his eyes above her neck.

She began to wonder if he disapproved.

* * *

They sipped sherry by the fire after dinner. He kept an odd little distance between them on the settee.

It was _strange_, not wearing one. She could feel changes in temperature more, of course, but really _everything_ was different. Fabric moved against her skin.

She silently thanked whatever impulse had kept her doing exercises in the mornings and evenings to strengthen her back; keeping a decent posture wasn't easy without the restrictive garment.

He was sweating a bit, looking away.

"Charles, what is it?" She kept her voice gentle, though part of her wanted to say it forcefully, mockingly. Get it all out in the open, if he disapproved then so be it, but hell if she was going back to _that_ contraption.

"Erm… nothing."

"Suit yourself. I'm going to bed." She stood up.

His head snapped up. Sequences rushed through his mind, some blank as he tried to imagine her new underthings. He feared that she would change into pajamas out of his sight, that she would never let him see.

He lunged for her clumsily, saying something that sounded like "wait" if she tried to decipher his mumblings. He grasped her wrist. _Gently._

She gave a start.

"Yes?" she demanded, a little too sharply. Letting the worry lash out.

He looked wounded and she stood there, her wrist in his hand (warm now from the fire, from stew, from sherry), turned it to make him let go.

"If you don't approve, then I'm simply going to —"

"_What?_"

"You heard me, Mr Carson. I know you don't like change —"

"Elsie."

She didn't hear him, not really.

"— and I figured it must just be a matter of time before I do something that ruffles your feathers."

He stared at her and slowly let go of her wrist.

She stared at him defiantly.

"Elsie."

She pursed her lips, raised her eyebrows at him.

"Do you remember what I said about it this morning?"

"About what?"

"About you no longer_, _ahem_, _wearing — er."

His discomfort looked like thunderous frowns of disapproval to her.

"Yes?"

"Lovely."

She blinked, shook her head.

"I said it was lovely, remember?"

"Then why do you look so stormy?"

"Oh, my darling." His voice sounded tired and he pinched the bridge of his nose, scrubbed a hand over his face. His yawn was contagious and they stood, sleepy together.

She waited.

"_Stormy._ Well. It's because I've been unable to think of anything all day but what you might look like now underneath your dress."

* * *

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a/n hi hiiiiii. drop me a line please! many thanks! thank you so much for your support on here and on tumblr!

thank you to my MAGNIFICENT beta, KOUW without whom this would be pretty boring and sucky. thank you all!


	147. Chapter 147

"Oh, my darling." His voice sounded tired and he pinched the bridge of his nose, scrubbed a hand over his face. His yawn was contagious and they stood, sleepy together.

She waited.

"_Stormy_. Well. It's because I've been unable to think of anything all day but what you might look like now underneath your dress."

* * *

Her mouth actually fell open, her eyes widening. She looked almost frightened.

He pulled her gently back to him, burying his nose in her hair and wrapping his arms around her.

"I guess I look like _me,"_ she said to his shoulder.

"I would love to see it."

"Well," she said, her courage returning and her smile audible, "and so you shall."

His hands at her waist (he could tell there was still _something_ there; the stiff boning of her corset was gone but some other mysterious garment had replaced it, lower and more flexible), he drew her in close again and kissed her softly.

* * *

He waited in the bedroom while she brushed her teeth.

When she returned, fully clothed, he was asleep. In his pajamas, thank goodness.

_It has been quite a day._

Despite her fatigue, she shivered a little with the memory of it. It was just this morning that he'd tasted her for the first time (and she hoped he would do it many more times, tried to imagine how she could ask him to do it). That they'd been so very close, so tightly held together and that then they'd reached that ecstatic madness. _Together._

She changed into her nightgown, putting her new unmentionables away with a little smile.

_Tomorrow, then._

She looked at her dear man. Candlelight from his table flickered across his back as he lay facing the center of the bed, his hair slightly ruffled, his feet bare.

She got into bed. Propped up on one elbow, she stroked his cheek to wake him. She ran her fingers through his hair and around his ear.

"Charlie," she said softly.

He woke. Confused, adorable.

"You fell asleep on top of the blankets, love."

Her indulgent smile as he tried to maneuver his long limbs under the covers without getting up. After a valiant effort, he found he had to stand. Slipping under the covers, he curled up, moving back to lie flush against her.

They lay together, her chest to his back. Her arm around his chest. She pressed a kiss to his shoulder and snuggled in, humming contentedly as they both drifted off.

* * *

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a/n i'd love to hear from you! leave me a review please, if you have a moment! and thanks to the lovely kouw for all of your help! xoxoxo


	148. Chapter 148

Her indulgent smile as he tried to maneuver his long limbs under the covers without getting up. After a valiant effort, he found he had to stand. Slipping under the covers, he curled up, moving back to lie flush against her.

They lay together, her chest to his back. Her arm around his chest. She pressed a kiss to his shoulder and snuggled in, humming contentedly as they both drifted off.

* * *

He opened his eyes just in time to see the sunlit hem of her dress slipping down over her hips, down the backs of her thighs. He caught sight of something, just barely. He didn't know what it was, but her suspenders attached to it and … and it was gone. her dress covered her. She turned around to find him propped up on one elbow, sleepily smiling at her.

He wasn't sure it hadn't been a dream.

She came to him then, sat on the edge of the bed and cupped his cheek. He turned and kissed her palm, wrapped his arms around her and pulled, inching backward on the bed to make room for her. She indulged him (and herself, mind) by lying down next to him, letting him wrap himself around her.

His hands roamed, spreading warmth through her. He covered her breast with one hand while lightly kissing her neck, making her shiver.

She stopped him, her hand over his. (Pressing him into her, if she were honest, but she had no time to think about that just now).

"We have to get going, darling."

"Wha — why?"

She turned to him, tapped him on the nose. Kissed him once.

"You don't remember?"

"Hmm?" He shook his head, then rolled his eyes at himself, mouth open in sudden recollection.

"Ohh."

"Yes. And we have to be there in an hour."

He groaned his disappointment.

"I know. But we don't have to stay long."

"Can I just see —" He made to reach for her hem, knowing he would stop the instant she asked him to.

"No!" She caught his hand, laughing, and brought it to her lips, then pushed away from him and got up. "We'll never leave if you do."

He looked both disappointed and hopeful, and the sight made her smile, bite her lip, lean down to kiss him once more, quickly, hard.

"Oh, my lovely man. I'm sorry to say it, but they're expecting us."

"I'm sorry too," and he smiled, squeezed her hand, and got up.

* * *

They spent the morning and early afternoon with Mrs Patmore, Daisy, and Mr Mason at the farm.

It was lovely, really. A very nice place to be.

They sat next to one another, unable to touch. Sipping tea, talking about this and that. It was nice to talk with Mr Mason about the running of the farm. Mr Carson had odd but pleasant questions and Mrs Carson smiled, wishing she could reach for his hand. She could tell him all manner of things about the farm in Argyll; maybe she would sometime. If he wanted to know.

Biting back a smile at the idea that popped into her head, she steered her thoughts back to the present conversation.

* * *

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a/n hi lovelies, please leave me a note if you have a chance! thank you x100000! and thank you kouw as always! xoxo


	149. Chapter 149

They sat next to one another, unable to touch. Sipping tea, talking about this and that. It was nice to talk with Mr Mason about the running of the farm. Mr Carson had odd but pleasant questions and Mrs Carson smiled, wishing she could reach for his hand. She could tell him all manner of things about the farm in Argyll; maybe she would sometime. If he wanted to know.

Biting back a smile at the idea that popped into her head, she steered her thoughts back to the present conversation.

* * *

Odd but pleasant questions from the groom's son turned butler.

He had a child's memories of warm hay and horses. Beautiful, gentle animals as long as you kept away from their hindquarters, which he always did; he only needed to hear that warning once. Big, soft noses. Alms of apples and carrots on his outstretched palm.

He listened to Mr Mason speak of feeding baby lambs. Daisy smiled at her surrogate papa and Mr Carson felt a twinge of jealousy, but mostly pride for the capable young woman who had come so far from the terrified scullery maid of over a decade ago.

He looked at his wife — his _wife_; it still gave him pause even as he sat next to her, here with their colleagues, their _friends_, who addressed her — however haltingly — with his name.

He needed to touch her, just chastely. Just to make sure she was there.

And so he dared reach for her hand, giving it an affectionate squeeze. She glanced at him with a gentle smile.

Her hand was in her lap. And he didn't mean to, he really didn't, but her skirt was thin on this warm day, and the backs of his fingers accidentally detected something lacy through the fabric, something new, and he froze —

He quickly controlled his intake of breath, hoping no one heard it. He willed himself to take part in the conversation.

She squeezed his hand back and then lifted it lightly — _off of my leg, thank you_ — before releasing it.

She tucked her saucy little idea away for when they got home.

Even if he'd been looking at her he wouldn't have seen her sparkling eyes or the smile she wanted to give him. She hid them away, her heart pounding.

She kept both hands on the table. She would never have expected _not_ touching him to be so exciting.

_That is... not touching him when I already __have_ _touched him and I __know_ _what it is to touch him._

Memories of the summer's abundant fantasies. She blinked them away with a carefully neutral expression.

_You sure found it exciting then too, Els._

_Ah, but back then I didn't __want_ _to not touch him._

_You don't __want_ _to not touch him now either, you minx._

She was beginning to think in circles with these unspoken words. She suppressed a smile, cleared her throat and forced herself, again, to focus on the conversation.

It was lovely to see Mrs Patmore so proud of Daisy. Rare and wonderful to spend time with them here, Mrs Patmore having been miraculously freed up by industrious kitchen maids and the family's outing.

When it came time to leave, she was grateful for his butler's training when he did not touch her as he helped her on with her coat.

* * *

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a/n thank you kouw for the beta magic!  
and thank you everyone who reads and reviews! you're wonderful!


	150. Chapter 150

When it came time to leave, she was grateful for his butler's training, as he helped her on with her coat without touching her.

* * *

They rode the bus. In his mind he was already slamming the cottage door and pushing her up against it. She would smile and gasp and it would turn to a moan while she draped her arms around his shoulders and he covered her neck with kisses, roughly fondling her breasts, feeling the exact shape of them, moulding them through whatever it was she was wearing under that dress that suddenly seemed so skimpy. He would reach down to grab her skirt, lift it and feel that secret lacy garment, and then finally _see_ it. Whatever it was. And then whatever she was wearing on top, _stop thinking about it, Charlie —_

He resisted these thoughts, not from a sense of shame, but in the knowledge that they still had to walk home once they got to the village.

It didn't help that her hand rested on her leg, one knuckle absently brushing his thigh whenever the bus jostled them.

She noted his discomfort, the subtle tightening of his trousers, and folded her hands together with a sympathetic glance.

He couldn't know, and she'd never expected, that her wetness would start to gather at the mere thought — _in public, Els!_ — of him wanting her.

_A blessing, that no one can tell when a woman is, erm..._ The word "_aroused_" came to mind and it made her cheeks feel hot. She rolled her eyes at herself. _All that reading, and all that... well, that... and you still blush at the word._

She took a deep breath to calm herself. It was more comfortable and free now, but strange. She did feel less supported, but she was glad of her decision about the new garments. In fact she rather liked the feeling of the new one; it bound her in a way that was flexible and … well, rather _pleasant_, actually.

He noticed her secret smile out of the corner of his eye and turned to her.

Mrs Patmore and Daisy sat behind them; only the brim of her hat kept them from catching her words as looked up at him and silently mouthed, _"I love you."_

Unable to return her words or do anything else without being seen, he wanted to squeeze her hand. Instead his hand hovered clumsily over hers, avoiding her lap. She took his hand then, squeezed it in midair, and put it back on his lap, retreating quickly.

He tried to keep his mind on Mrs Patmore. _The Dowager Countess. His Lordship's cufflinks, for god's sake, anything but her._

Finally they were alone, walking home arm in arm after saying their goodbyes.

They removed their gloves and held hands instead once they were out of sight.

* * *

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a/n  
thank you so much for your support! i'd love to hear from you again. your reviews give me LIFE. xoxoxo  
thank you kouw! (you guys, the wonderful and generous kouw helped me SO MUCH in figuring out what to have Elsie wear, so give her some kudos if you liiiiike iiiiit...)(i'm so impatient to write the dang underwear! askjhdflkjhs)


	151. Chapter 151

They reached their cottage, she unlocked the door, and they stepped inside.

A crazy urge in his head. _She'll like it, Charlie. If she doesn't, you'll stop right away. Try it. I dare you._

He took off his hat while she set down her handbag, didn't bother with his gloves, and when she turned, he gripped her waist and pulled her roughly to him, spinning them, pushing her up against the door. His hands on her hips held her still while he pressed flush against her, his lips plundering hers.

She gasped in surprise — _not really surprise, Els_ — and she was smiling, kissing him back forcefully, and then he was kissing her neck, chills down her spine, he held her other hand high against the door, gloved fingers entwined.

Her lips swollen, red, her breath short. Her other hand floated mid-air and he looked up at her just as she used her teeth to start removing the glove.

The sight of her_,_ this woman capable of such propriety, now with black leather between her teeth. He stood open-mouthed for a fraction of a second, then pulled at her loosened glove to remove it, tossing it on the floor. He sucked her fingers, teasing, tasting the skin in between. Cupping her breast, pinching her nipple — _through her dress and whatever the hell else she has on under it —_

She jerked, bucking her hips, pressing her fingers into his mouth and sliding her leg around his. He released her hand, reached down and picked her up. Her legs went tight around him, coat bunched up around her waist and nearly losing a button, frantic hands pulling off her other glove, dropping it on the floor —

"Settee," she managed, and he couldn't even respond, just carried her there and sat down. She straddled him. _More_ than fully clothed, _still in her hat for god's sake, _and yet here she was, her skirt hem ridden up to her knees. Breathless and wanting, with his hardness pressing up against her softness, nothing but a few layers of unknown clothing in between.

He cupped her face and she turned, biting his gloved fingertips and pulling. One after the other, with a glint in her eye. His breath caught. He stared, his other hand at the base of her spine, but she arched away from him, taking his glove off and tossing it as she started on the other with her teeth. His mouth was open and she pushed in. Instantly he bit down, just enough to hold her there, swirling his tongue around her invading fingers. Her eyelids heavy, her body rocking slowly back and forth against him, she finished with his glove and sent it after the first.

She brought his hands to the bottom button of her coat, then leaned over him, her hands braced on the settee behind him — memories of a fantasy like this, on the train to Brighton, wishing for contact while she'd stared at her book, that book that had shocked him so delightfully —

And she kissed him, soft and insistent, giving him her quiet moans as her lips nibbled, sucked lightly at his, their tongues beginning to touch.

He was peeling her coat from her. They took it off together and as she reached up with both hands to unpin her hat, he caught her waist, felt her torso with his big hands. His mouth on her breast, his breath hot through her clothing. His palms and fingertips seeking knowledge of unknown garments that moulded her body some, yes, but differently than before.

He wondered whether it had been a dream or if they were really the delicate cream color of which he thought he'd caught a glimpse this morning.

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a/n and we're back! thank you, everyone who reads and reviews, and the magnificent kouw. please drop me a line if you have the time! thank you!


	152. Chapter 152

**nota bene: today's first update was 151.**

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Her hair came tumbling down, lock by lock, silky, waving, all around them. He adored it. He buried his hands in it and wrapped it around his fingers. Sudden memories of seeing her long hair wrapped around her wrists — like restraints, like something he'd never thought of before but maybe —

But she was getting up. Pushing him back against the settee and standing, and he wondered for an instant what he'd done wrong, if he'd pulled her hair, _what_ —

But she kissed him, hard, and sat down in the chair.

"What — why?"

She only smiled in response. She was leaning down, taking off her shoes. Slowly. He was transfixed.

"Take off your coat, Mr Carson. I do hope you'll stay a while." _Bizarre, Els. Maybe too much? Breathe; see what he does._

He paused for half a second, his eyes wide, but he played along, unbuttoning his coat and wondering what to do with it.

She must have seen his hesitation.

"You can go hang it up if you'd like. I'll be right here. And you can take off your shoes too, if it's not too cold."

Her tone was oddly kind, with just an edge of seduction, and he was reassured. He hung up their coats and removed his shoes, and she smiled indulgently at him as he went, biting it back as he returned. He still saw the sparkle in her eyes.

He tried to come and kiss her and she let him, kissed him back, but then she pushed him away, back to the settee.

He watched as she undid the buckles and dropped her shoes to the floor.

The settee and chair being fairly close together, it was no surprise that she _could_ rest a foot on the settee. The surprise was that she _did._ She had positioned herself so that the outside of her thigh faced him. Her skirt was up to her knee and the fabric draped down. Her other leg might be spread wide, or tucked in close under the chair. He couldn't tell.

He took her foot in his hands and massaged it, letting his hand dare wander up her ankle, just to the beginning of her calf.

She melted a bit into the chair, curling as he'd never seen her do before — _not in clothing, that is _— _not with a corset _—

And as her body lowered, her knee rose and her skirt fell just a touch, sliding up her thigh, revealing the top of her stocking and the hint of a suspender. Her other leg was tucked close in, her thighs squeezing together.

His breath shook, which was just what she'd hoped.

It _was_ that delicate creamy color he'd seen this morning. If he'd leaned to the side, he'd have seen more. But he didn't know whether it was allowed just yet and so he took what she gave him. Which was the sight of her leg, the touch of her foot, the promise of soft skin above the top of smooth stockings.

He rested his hand on her knee, watching her eyelids flutter closed at his touch. He heard her breath tremble, saw her chest rise and fall, and realised that she was not only doing this to torment him, but was also shaking under her own restraint.

He sat up, ran his hand downward — up her thigh, gently pushing her skirt up further and stopping when he reached the top of her stocking. She shivered when he stilled his hand.

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a/n please drop me a line if you have a moment! many thanks! and thanks especially to kouw!


	153. Chapter 153

She considered how to go on from there. Her idea was changing form. She'd thought to tell him stories of the farm, innocuous tales, while slowly revealing her new underthings. She'd wanted to watch him squirm, make him listen, not let him touch her —

But she didn't want to do that, not anymore. Didn't want to bring childhood stories into this. Not _during_, not as a _tease._

_Something else, then._

_Ask him to tell you a story, Els._

Adrenaline shot through her as she realized what she wanted to hear.

There were two things, really, but _this_ one, _oh my god Els are you really going to _—

"Charlie."

He looked up at her.

"I'm... I'm not sure how to say this."

He looked worried. She shook her head.

"I mean, how to ask you..."

He waited, unwilling to interrupt her.

She sighed.

"Oh, my Elsie. What is it?"

"Just give me a moment, love. I'll get there."

She took a deep breath, placing her hand over his on her thigh.

_Here goes, Els, you can do it, I think he'll be willing, you just have to ask _—

"I want you to talk to me."

He gave her a little smile, his sparkling eyes.

"About wh —" he began.

"About what it's like for you —"

He sucked in air and held it.

"— when you have your mouth on me."

His eyebrows shot upward and he was caught in a little laugh.

She started to backpedal, pouring out nervous words, wishing she could take back her request —_of course, he's shocked _—

He reached forward, placing two gentle fingertips on her lips. His other hand tightened on her thigh and her body curled forward, her breath escaping in a little moan. She opened her mouth slightly, taking his fingers in, just touching them with her teeth and the tip of her tongue.

"Yes. I will, my love. I'll try..."

"Thank you," she whispered shakily against his fingertips.

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a/n oh the boldness... but her underwear, where is her underwear? we will see it. soon. please drop me a line if you have a moment! thank you so much! and special thanks as always to kouw!


	154. Chapter 154

**n.b. the first update today was 151.**

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Their hands moved together. Slowly, up her thigh, just reaching the lace edge of her new… _something_. He didn't know what it was called, but it seemed to be softer than her corset had been.

Her thighs were still pressed together; her back arching of its own accord, lifting just slightly off the chair. She waited.

Panic rushed through him; he started to sweat.

_Good god, what have I agreed to?_

He wet his lip and looked at her, his heart pounding. She looked — she looked _delectable_, leaned back in the chair like that with her hair pushed up around her. Her breathing was shallow, her mouth slightly open, her lower lip catching the lamplight.

Her eyes burned him.

_And her legs, her new underthings, oh god _— he wanted to touch her, to lift her skirt further, see what she was wearing, but she was waiting, watching him, expecting —

"I, that is —"

He cleared his throat, looked down — _don't look at your hand on her leg, Charlie, don't _—

He looked back up at her and caught the flash of shy hope on her face. He exhaled slowly.

_She loves you, Charlie. You can do this._

_Don't let her down._

The last thing in the world he would want to do was to make her feel rejected, or strange, or — a horrible word flitted through his brain and he pushed it away. _Whorish. _Awful, the word was so hateful. He certainly didn't think of her that way. And if anyone did, well. For one thing, he was not a violent man but he would strike anyone who would insult his bride. For another, no one knew they were like this with each other. It was a precious private thing all their own.

He didn't want to make her feel bad — es_pecially after all we've been through _— and with every second that passed in silence, it seemed more certain that he would.

_Speak, Charlie. Now. Do it._

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a/n i think we've reached an agreement, chelsie and i... they're not fighting it [much] anymore. thanks, ladies, for the support on tumblr about them fighting me! you all are the best! olehistorian, i'm looking at you... MWAH.  
thanks as always to the magnificent kouw!


	155. Chapter 155

He didn't want to make her feel bad — _especially after all we've been through_ — and with every second that passed in silence, it seemed more certain that he would.

_Speak, Charlie. Now. Do it._

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The silence stretched out and his heart was still pounding and he began. He tried to find the right balance of love and propriety. For all she'd talked so boldly, for all they'd done together, it was all still so new.

_She wants to hear it._

_Just don't be crass._

So he began. Stumbling a little, red in the face, with words like "wonderful" and "lovely" and "dream come true" awkwardly falling from his mouth.

He was slowly _(so slowly_) moving his hand up the outside of her thigh. His fingertips curved around to that soft skin of her inner thigh. Her breath caught. Her hand still rested on his.

He felt a little silly taking this way about... Well. About _her_. About doing _that_.

He slid his hand even closer, trapping hers in between. The first knuckle of her thumb pressed against her and she gasped softly in recognition.

He couldn't have known this was the first way she had ever … lying on her front, alone in her bed, cheek pressed to pillow, her hand pressed against her knickers —

Their positions made it impossible for her to move that hand in the way he suspected she might like to do.

As he thought perhaps she _had_ done, and likely with great skill; maybe someday she would show him, show him how she brought herself to ecstasy alone, what she did with her hands when she was alone —

He took a deep breath, trying to come back from those improper thoughts. He blinked, realizing.

He looked at her, really looked at her.

_Delicious wanton woman._

_There is no need to keep this proper._

_Quite the contrary._

_She actually wants to know._

And he let out that deep breath; he didn't know he was holding it. He took another breath, a normal one. A calming one.

_Alright, Charlie._

"I like the way I can smell you on me after."

Her eyes flew open; her body curved into his touch. And he smiled at her. He found his stride.

"I like the way you grab me with your legs and I can't hear anything anymore. And there is nothing in the world but your pussy and my mouth." His voice dropped at the end, a near-whisper, rich and deep.

And she gasped in shock, met his eyes for a second before arching again, eyelids falling closed, listening, trembling.

"Tell me about that word," she breathed. "I want you to tell me about it. Talk to me about that one and — and the other one."

He turned his hand and she slipped her hand away. He was cupping her through the new knickers — he could tell now that they were some kind of knickers, smooth, with lacy edges, all underneath the new... _something._

"What is this called?"

He said it softly, his other hand coming to rest on her hip, then sliding up, pushing her skirt even further, exposing her as he covered the constricted plane of her belly.

Feeling delighted and a little wicked, he watched her trying to find words. "What's what?"

"This. What you're wearing." His fingers tightened, pressing into her hip through it.

"It's — it's called a corselet. Or a girdle. Not a very pretty name, I'm afraid, but —"_ Stop it, Els._

He shook his head and gently moved his fingers between her legs, pressing, just long enough to make her gasp and clutch at his shoulder.

"I love it. Do you want to hear about that word?"

"Yes — tell me, please —" He'd stopped moving and she squeezed her thighs around his hand.

"The other word first, perhaps?"

"Yes —"

He felt for the slit he expected to find in her knickers and groaned when he realized there wasn't one.

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a/n please leave me a review if you have the time! thank you, and thank you kouw for beta magic!


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